


darling, dearest, dead

by Rivendell101



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orpheus and Eurydice (Hellenistic Religion & Lore) Fusion, Blood Magic, Character Death, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gang Violence, Modern Retelling, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Romance, and i'm using "pagan" loosely in the original sense that it's polytheistic, because this is riverdale fanfiction and everything has to be a little fucked up, it also focuses much more on taboo aspects of ancient paganism, the rituals and information are based on some pagan myths i've come across, this is not based on any real neo-pagan beliefs to the best of my knowledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivendell101/pseuds/Rivendell101
Summary: Sweet Pea stares at her for a moment longer, fingers curling at his sides, as if he wants to touch her but knows he can’t. Not really, anyway. “You’re going to have to let me go,” he says, so much softer than she’s ever heard him before. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, his dark eyes locking with hers. “You have to let me go, Sweetheart.”She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut tightly. Her throat goes tight, eyes itching and rimmed red. “I can’t,” she tells him. Fingers ghost against her cheek, close and cold and coaxing her to look at him again, and when she finally opens her eyes Sweet Pea smiles down at her, a broken little thing.AKA: The Orpheus and Eurydice Retelling no one asked for.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist can be found at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1tsVkfDxV286D9mK9ErgWQ
> 
> Also! Natalia Barros belongs to @southsidewrites here on AO3 and tumblr! I guess you could say I... borrowed her. Becca is amazing and I love her OCs!

_{i loved and i loved and i lost you}_

Jubilee sighs as she leans against the kitchen counter, both hands clasped around her coffee mug, relishing in the warmth against her chilly fingers, the morning air still cold this early in January. It’s still dark, a thin sliver of light only just beginning to crest over the horizon, color bleeding into the sky at the edges. It’s quiet, almost too quiet, but peaceful, the entire town standing still, holding its breath, the only sound the soft music coming from the speaker perched on the counter beside her. There’s a hush over Riverdale, a stillness and silent snow blanketing Sunnyside Trailer Park.

Riverdale is one of those towns that never seems to settle. There’s something about the area, the surrounding forests and the river, the smell of the air, how time doesn’t move quite as it should that makes the town feel ancient, like old bones. Jubilee has lived in Riverdale her entire life and the town still feels restless, brimming with unrestrained energy that creeps beneath everyone’s skin, makes them agitated, nervous and a little wild.

Riverdale is on the cusp of something _other_. Something reckless and perhaps dangerous. It’s something people don’t talk about, but are keenly aware of. Like the shadows that move along the outline of the abandoned Lark Farm, and the trees in Fox Forest that seem to wail when there’s no moon, or the flowers that bloom too late into autumn but turn to wicked brambles overnight before the equinox. They border something unnatural here in their little town. They can feel it. Riverdale is part of something distinctly _other_ , tied to it so closely that the line of separation is warped nearly beyond recognition.

On nights where the moon is full, Jubilee wakes with knots braided into her hair and tiny purple flowers blooming in her windowsill, even in the dead of winter. She’s always been what people call special, favored by the free folk in the woods ever since she was born. It used to confuse her, the looks she would get from the older residents of the town: wary and mistrusting. Jubilee didn’t learn until she was older that she was never supposed to live past the first week, born pale and sickly and quiet unlike her brother. But her mother has always been connected to the Old Gods of the deep woods, embracing the restless energy held in Riverdale, feeding on it.

Some say that her mother was granted a gift from the Old Gods. But there’s always a cost to making deals with the free folk. A payment that needs to be made. Blood for blood. Sacrifice. There are rumors about what Gladys Jones did to save her daughter, violent, bloody stories that leave her stomach churning, though she’s never been squeamish.

Jubilee never has known what to believe.

A pair of arms wrap around her from behind, one long arm settling around her waist as the other bands across her chest, fingers latching onto her shoulder. A solid weight presses flush against her back as Sweet Pea curls around her, immediately burying his face against her hair and heaving a sigh, content as he relaxes against her, trapping her between his chest and the counter. A smile pulls at Jubilee’s mouth as his lips brush against her temple, Sweet Pea pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead in greeting.

“Why’d you leave me, Baby?” he murmurs against her ear, voice still thick and rough with sleep. The sound sends a shiver down her spine, her lips quirking higher at the edges. Sweet Pea’s grip tightens around her waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her side as his mouth moves to her cheek, breath hot against her skin.

Humming to herself, Jubilee leans back into him, eyes fluttering shut as his lips trail across her skin, leaving a series of soft butterfly kisses in his wake. “Coffee,” she says, one hand leaving her mug as she reaches up to grasp his forearm, holding him to her. Her head lolls back against his shoulder. “Besides, I needed to call Toni before she left for her shift.”

Sweet Pea huffs, nosing at her hair again as his fingers squeeze around her upper arm, causing her smile to widen even further. He’s always been clingy in the morning, ever since they moved in together after graduation, always reluctant to leave the warmth of their bed and finding ways to keep her there with him, though she’s never put up a fight about staying, content to bask in his warmth, the two of them curled together in a tangled mess of sheets.

Those early morning hours, when the sun is just starting to rise and she can feel him breathing on her neck, the heat of him pressed along her spine and his fingers drawing hazy shapes against her skin, that’s when she knows she’s home. He’s her home.

“It’s too early,” he groans low in the back of his throat, grip around her tightening. The words are muffled, lost against her skin as his mouth trails lower, down past her jaw, lingering for only a moment, breath fanning over her exposed throat.

Rolling her eyes, she takes another sip of her coffee, humming to herself and leaning back further into his chest. “You could have stayed in bed,” she reminds him, sighing as his continues to peruse her soft skin.

She knows exactly what he’s doing, trying to coax her back into bed with him, and she’s loath to admit that it might be working. He’s always been a bad influence on her, getting her to sneak out when they were younger, making her a little reckless, a little braver than she ever thought she could be.

He presses a chaste kiss against her pulse point, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, leaving her neck bare to him. “Got cold without you.” She shivers as his breath tickles her skin and Sweet Pea’s lips quirk up at the edges. Sweet Pea’s hand slides down her side, palm leaving a burning path across her skin. His fingers find the hem of her shirt.

“Did you?” Jubilee asks, humoring him. His hand slips beneath her shirt, fingers ghosting her skin, just enough for her to feel it. Sweet Pea presses another kiss against the side of her neck, and Jubilee rolls her eyes again, setting her mug back onto the counter, resigned to leaving it half-full. His smile only widens as she sighs, leaning further into his naked chest as his mouth peppers fleeting touches from the edge of her jaw down to the curve of her shoulder.

She never does get to finish her coffee with him around, not once in their near seven years together.

Humming, his palm presses flat to her stomach, greedy fingers stretching out to cover as much of her skin as he can, the heat of his hand sinking into her abdomen. “Missed you,” he mumbles against her, shifting to nose at her exposed ear. The hand on her shoulder shifts, Sweet Pea thumbing at the flannel draped around her frame. “Have I ever told you that I like seeing you in my clothes?”

Jubilee snorts, free hand coming up to clasp onto the forearm tossed around her shoulders. “Every morning.” Sweet Pea pulls away from her neck and Jubilee drops her head back onto his shoulder, craning her neck to look up at him for the first time. “Usually you like it more when I take them off though.”

Sweet Pea’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, his shoulders shaking as his laughter rumbles through them both, and a hazy warmth bubbles in Jubilee’s chest as she stares up at him. Dark eyes lock with hers as he shakes his head slowly, messy hair falling into his face as he sends her a look practically dripping with fondness, one people rarely get to see on him. There’s a softness surrounding him this early in the morning, something gentle that’s usually tucked away behind the leather and tattoos.

Pressing up on her toes, Jubilee tilts her head to the side, placing a messy kiss on his chin before dropping back to her heels. Sweet Pea catches her before she can slide away, lips meeting hers in an equally sloppy peck, and then another as she starts to pull back. Shaking her head, Jubilee slips away from him, not bothering to hide her smile, Sweet Pea giving her shoulder one last squeeze before releasing her.

She doesn’t go far, twisting around on her heel to face him directly and leaning back against the counter, elbows settling against the smooth surface. “Can’t you let me finish my coffee before trying to seduce me?” Jubilee jokes, appreciative gaze sweeping across the naked expanse of his chest, taking in his familiar frame.

Snorting, Sweet Pea allows his own eyes to wander to her bare legs. A pleased hum rumbles in his throat as he leans forward, hands settling atop the counter on either side of her, caging her between him and the counter. “It’s not my fault you can’t resist my charm, Baby.”

A surprised giggle bubbles in her throat. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely the problem,” she teasingly agrees.

Sweet Pea’s nose brushes against hers as he presses against her front, no space left between them. Jubilee inhales sharply as one of his hands curls around the center of her back, curving her into him. His lips trail across her cheek to her ear, not quite kissing her yet. “Come back to bed?” he murmurs against her, hand hot against her lower back.

His lips find their way back to her jaw, a series of feverish kisses burning against her skin. “Tempting,” she hums, eyes slipping shut as he tilts her head to the side, finding an angle he likes, “but I don’t think so.” Despite her words, Jubilee shifts against the counter, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck languidly. Sweet Pea grins, mouth shifting lower, back to her neck, lips lazily trailing down the column of her throat.

Jubilee sighs, fingers curling in his hair, nails dragging along his scalp softly. Sweet Pea’s mouth leaves her for only a moment as he bends slightly at the knee, hands hooking under her thighs before he lifts her off the ground.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, placing her down on the counter top.

Rolling her eyes, Jubilee lets him nudge her knees apart, just enough for him to step between her legs, pressing his hips flush to hers. A giggle slips past her lips as he presses a kiss to her cheek, her chin, anywhere but her mouth.

“You and I both know that if we get back into bed now, we won’t be leaving it for the rest of the day,” she reminds him, a half-hearted protest before his mouth finally finds hers. Her fingers fist in his hair, back arching as his fingertips trace the length of her spine. She pulls back just enough to breathe. “We have that Serpent meeting tonight.” One of Sweet Pea’s hands slips beneath the hem of her shirt, teasing her skin. “You’re supposed to help Fangs clean out his Grandmother’s attic.” His lips press against the corner of her mouth, hand slipping higher on her torso, and she sighs at the contact. “And I still have to call Holiday about Dexy and Isaac’s bail bonds.”

Sweet Pea pulls away from her, practically towering over her as he meets her eyes, gauging her expression, checking to see if she really wants him to stop. Jubilee pulls her lower lips between her teeth, looking up at him through her lashes, and a low groan pulls from his throat at the sight. Her fingers comb through his messy hair, tugging at his roots gently.

“They can wait,” he breathes out, just before his mouth seals over hers, one hand coming up to cradle her cheek.

She meets him in a fierce kiss, his weight pressing against her, surrounding her. Jubilee sighs against him as Sweet Pea tilts her head back, lips chasing hers. His calloused fingertips brush against her cheek, drawing a shiver from her at the soft touch. The hand on her back holds her steady against him. Her own hands drift to the sides of his neck, a delicate finger tracing the curves of the two-headed snake inked into his skin. Sweet Pea breathes out an appreciative sigh at the contact before her hands drop down to his shoulders, his arms, around to his back to feel his muscles bunch beneath her touch.

Sweet Pea’s lips part against hers, tongue running along the seam of her lips slowly. He shivers as Jubilee’s nails drag down his shoulder blades teasingly, touch light against his bare skin. A low sound rumbles in the back of his throat, muffled against her, and Sweet Pea nips at her bottom lip, smiling when he draws a surprised whimper from her. His hand drifts from her cheek, trailing down the side of her neck before dropping down to her thigh.

A small sound leaves her throat, but he swallows it quickly, pulling her tighter to his chest as he slips his hand higher on her back, palm hot against her skin. The hand on her leg slides higher, his thumb tracing nonsensical patterns along her smooth skin, his grip firm as he squeezes her thigh, hands growing bolder when she sighs against him.

Jubilee hums, back arching into his chest as she teethes his bottom lip, nipping at him harshly when she catches his lower lip in her between her teeth. She nibbles at him when he squeezes her thigh, playing with his lip and teasing him. Sweet Pea practically growls against her mouth, hand on her back yanking her closer when she sucks his lip into her mouth. Jubilee pulls at his hair harshly, nails raking across his skull and down the back of his neck, an action that draws a moan from somewhere deep in his chest. It only encourages him: his hands squeeze tighter, teeth pulling harder, and Jubilee shivers against him, leaning into his touch.

His fingers trail higher on her thigh, just barely skimming the hem of her underwear.

Jubilee’s hand clasps around his wrist, holding him in place. Her mouth wrenches away from his, a smile curling at her lips as he exhales heavily through his nose. “Nice try,” she whispers against his mouth, pulling his hand from her leg. “But you’re not distracting me today.” She presses one last lingering kiss to his lips before slipping from the counter and twisting out of his grip, snagging her coffee mug as she goes.

Sweet Pea grins, wetting his lips. With one hand, he shoves his messy hair away from his face, looking over his shoulder to watch her go, a little sway to her hips because she knows he’s watching. “Tease,” Sweet Pea calls after her, smile only widening when she shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder.

Shaking her head again, Jubilee tries to smother her smile as she heads into their small kitchen, mug clasped in one hand, unsurprisingly cold. She never has liked the taste of reheated coffee, and with the echo of his touch thrumming in her bones she doubts she would need the rest regardless.

She pours the chilled coffee into the sink, humming to herself as she glances out the window facing east, looking out over the field leading into Fox Forest. In the edge of the tree line something moves, merely a shadow against the blanket of snow. Jubilee flicks on the tap, gaze shifting from the window as she rinses her mug, swirling the water in the cup.

When she looks up again the shadow is gone.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Jubilee pauses, noticing him still watching her from where she left him, a look in his eyes that she can’t quite place. “What?” she asks, shutting off the water and placing her mug in the sink before turning around. Jubilee leans back against the counter, crossing her arms, head cocked to one side as she returns his stare.

Sweet Pea blinks. He shakes his head as if he’s coming out of some sort of daze and sends her a slow, lazy grin that makes her heart squeeze in her chest. “Nothing,” he promises, but he doesn’t stop staring at her. Something longing and lingering and absolutely unshakable flickers in his dark eyes and Jubilee drowns in it in the best way. His gaze drags along her form like a physical touch, heat licking across her skin at the warmth in his eyes.

“What?” she asks again, grinning back at him automatically, unable to stop herself once her eyes lock on his. Sweet Pea’s always had the most remarkable way of making her smile, even when she hasn’t wanted to.

“I just…” Sweet Pea trails off, running a hand through his hair and huffing out a short breath of a laugh. He pushes away from the counter, coming to stand in the kitchen entrance, half-leaning against the wall. Not once does he take his eyes off her. “How did I get so lucky with you?” Sweet Pea murmurs, so soft she almost doesn’t hear him.

Jubilee’s smile shifts into something smaller, softer, and she takes a step towards Sweet Pea. He follows her movement, eyes practically swallowing her whole the closer she gets. Stopping in front of him, Jubilee presses up on her toes and reaches up to cup his face. Her thumb brushes against his cheek, tracing the thin scar beneath his eye from a fight years ago with the Ghoulies.

“Who said you were the lucky one?” she whispers back to him, the words lost to his lips as they brush against hers, Jubilee pulling him down to meet her in a sweet kiss. Sweet Pea sighs against her, one hand brushing the soft skin of her inner arm where her flannel is rolled up, his shirt much too big for her.

Jubilee presses one last fleeting kiss to his mouth before she drops back onto her heels, hands lingering against his cheeks before finally letting him go.

 

 

Music still playing faintly in the room, Jubilee hums along to a familiar song, pen tapping against her paper in time to the slow rhythm absentmindedly as she continues to work.

Sweet Pea suddenly speaks up from where he’s leaning against the wall watching her work. “Is this a cover?” he asks, a small frown twisting at his lips as he strains to hear the music, the lyrics familiar, though he can’t quite place the song. His head cocks to one side as he stares at her, tracing the curve of her jaw with his eyes, mapping her features, though he’s known her for so long he hardly needs to anymore, having every inch of her skin memorized, locked away tight in his heart.

Jubilee hums in response, glancing up at him briefly and smiling before turning back to her notebook. “ ‘Every Little Thing She Does is Magic,’ ” she tells him. “It’s an old Police song, but I like the cover more.” Jubilee wrinkles her nose, but grins as he chuckles.

“I like it.”

“Yeah?” She looks up at him again, smile only widening. “My parents danced to this song at their wedding.” It was their first dance of the night, according to her mother. Jubilee’s never them happier than in the video from that night, smiles wide and love in their expressions. Sometimes she can still see that look on their faces, at the edges of their eyes. She sighs. “Dad knows the song by heart,” she continues, snorting softly. “Sometimes I catch him humming it when he thinks no one is listening. He’s always been a bit of a romantic, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

Sweet Pea is quiet for a long moment, the soft piano music suddenly the only sound in the room. His heart swells at the sight of her, curled on the couch with her feet tucked beneath her, a familiar fond expression on her face as she thinks about her family. When he does speak she’s only half paying attention. She almost misses it.

Almost.

“Maybe we could dance to it at ours,” he tells her, casual, staring down at the tattoo on his thumb in feigned interest.

The pen slips from between her fingers. It tumbles to the floor, rolling when it hits the wood, and Jubilee stares at the paper on the coffee table. Her head snaps around, wide eyes locking on his. “Sweet Pea?” She breathes his name, shaky, her throat going tight as she sees the heartbreaking honesty in his eyes.

His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and his tongue flicks out to swipe across his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Sweet Pea pushes off the wall, taking a step towards her, a small, nervous smile pulling at his lips when she only stares at him, lips trembling slightly. “I wasn’t going to do this now,” he tells her. “I was going to wait. I had it all planned out.” He sighs, shaking his head, and Jubilee releases a slow, shuddering breath.

“The two of us out at Crystal Lake in the spring,” he continues, “with the wildflowers just starting to bloom.” Sweet Pea chuckles, coming even closer to her, and Jubilee moves for the first time, shifting towards him, unable to say a word. “I was going to make it romantic, but _god_ , I looked at you this morning and I couldn’t...” he trails off, stopping when he reaches the edge of the couch, staring down at her. “It’s always been you, Jubilee.”

Her breath catches, her eyes growing wetter the longer he talks. And then Sweet Pea reaches up to slip his dog-tags from around his neck, never once looking away from her as he slides something thin and silver from the chain, something she never would have thought to look for. Something she never thought he would hide in plain sight.

Jubilee’s hand flies up to cover her mouth, a strange mix between a gasp and a sob bubbling in her throat. “You’re way too good for me,” Sweet Pea tells her, more nervous than she’s ever seen him in all the years they’ve known each other. “You’re so damn smart. And stubborn. And funny. And you make me want to be better.”

“Say it,” Jubilee whispers, slowly uncurling herself from the couch, moving to stand in front of him. Jubilee stares up at Sweet Pea, eyes watery and rimmed in red as she tries not to cry. Her fingers fist around the sleeves of the flannel she stole from him. Taking a step closer, Sweet Pea swallows, his own eyes shimmering with so much love and affection that she can barely breathe. “Say it,” she repeats.

Gentle hands cup her face, his tattooed thumb brushing away a tear that escapes her. Sweet Pea leans down, dropping his temple to rest against hers as her fingers curl around his wrists, holding him in place. A quivering breath fans across her lips. “Marry me, Jubilee Jones,” he murmurs against her.

Surging up on her toes, Jubilee catches him in a burning kiss, smothering anything else he planned to say. Sweet Pea’s grip on her tightens, the cool metal of the delicate silver band in his palm pressing into her cheek, contrasting the warmth of his hands. Sweet Pea kisses her back twice as fierce, an arm winding tight around her back as the other tangles in her hair, dipping her head backwards as her own hands come up to cradle his face.

Sweet Pea pulls back just enough to breathe, his nose bumping against hers gently. “That’s not an answer,” he jokes, throat tight and voice rough.

“Yes,” Jubilee tells him, choking on a sob. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Sweet Pea grins against her, lips meeting hers in another bruising kiss before she’s suddenly being hoisted into the air as his hands drop to her bare legs, urging her to jump.

He catches her before she can fall.

* * *

 

Sweet Pea’s fingers trace the length of her spine, pattering against her naked back to his own rhythm. Jubilee sighs atop him, stirring slightly from her content doze, eyes barely open, half-lulled to sleep by his heart beating against her ear and the warmth of his palm seeping into her skin. Playing with the fingers of his right hand, she traces the two inky lines on his thumb, touch light.

A pleased hum pulls from his throat, Sweet Pea’s grip around her tightening. Her eyes blink open as his breath stirs her hair. His fingers slide high between her shoulder blades to wind a dark, wavy strand of hair around his finger, giving it a little tug before dragging back down to her waist, settling on her skin just above the blanket. Her breath puffs against his chest, hair tickling his skin, and Jubilee shifts slightly on top of him, legs winding tight with his beneath the sheets.

The ring on her finger catches the sunlight spilling in through the window, curtains drawn open just an inch. It’s pretty, a delicate band inlaid with Celtic knots on either side of a simple diamond. _Perfect_ is the only thing that comes to mind as she stares at it. It reminds her of the one her mother used to wear, and the trees in Fox Forest with branches that wind together in the same knots that appear in her hair every full moon. Her mother has always been connected to the forest and so has Jubilee, the call of it in their blood.

Sweet Pea’s always known that about her, and yet he’s never looked at her like she’s anything less than pure joy, wild and reckless.

“What are you smiling about?” Sweet Pea grumbles, tapping his fingers against her lower back. He moves slightly, careful not to disturb her, peering down at her questioningly.

Jubilee’s grin only widens at the question, her fingers squeezing around his as she finally pulls her gaze from the small, silver ring adorning her finger. Shifting on top of him, she presses a fleeting kiss to his chest, just over his heart. He sighs at the feeling of her lips on him, Jubilee’s breath tickling the skin just below his collarbone before she drops another kiss there as well.

Her fingers slip from between his, her forearms settling against his broad chest. Sweet Pea’s hand stills against her back as she sits up just enough to meet his eyes, his palm resting low on her spine. Thumb brushing against the ring again, the pads of her fingers begin tracing nonsensical feather-light shapes against him. “You asked me to marry you,” she says, an incredulous little laugh slipping past her lips.

Sweet Pea chuckles with her, low and throaty, the rumble of his chest vibrating through them both. His thumb strokes along her spine soothingly, right hand coming up to touch her face, knuckles brushing against her cheek as he sweeps her hair away from her face. “I’m aware,” he murmurs back, big hand cradling her face. Jubilee turns into his touch, pressing her lips to his palm.

“And I said yes.” She still can’t quite believe it, but the open warmth and absolute joy in his eyes is enough to remind her that it’s real. And it makes her exuberant and nervous all at once, because she saw what happened to her parents, and she knows what happened to his. And they’ve both seen what can come from marriage, the anger and the fighting and the broken hearts, but she isn’t afraid, and she can see in his eyes that he isn’t either.

They make each other brave.

His eyes crinkle around the edges as he grins back at her, thumb stroking her cheek. “You did,” he agrees, a soft edge to his voice like he can’t quite believe it either, like it’s still settling in him that she’s his and he’s hers. Like he can’t believe how deeply she’s ingrained in his heart. It isn’t like they never spoke of marriage before, but it had never seemed serious, a fleeting wistfulness in them both. A maybe.

And now it’s real, and good, and she’s never been so bursting with joy as she is now.

Jubilee leans down, catching his lips with hers in a slow, sweet kiss. Sweet Pea sighs against her, hand slipping around to cup the back of her neck, loosely holding her to him as his mouth moves against hers. One of her hands leaves his chest, creeping towards his neck to trace the serpent imprinted there.

She pulls away from him slowly, kissing the corner of his mouth and then his chin, lips lightly trailing across his jaw. “Sweets?” she whispers, nosing at his cheek. He hums in response, lazy finger dragging up her spine. Her lips brush against the shell of his ear. “Take my last name?”

His fingers still on her back and Jubilee shifts, meeting his gaze with her own hesitant one. She isn’t sure why she asked, why it slipped out before she could stop it, but it’s there now, in the open, and she isn’t sure if it was too much too soon. He’s always resented his own surname, the memory of his father lingering in the back of his mind like an open wound. It’s not something they’ve ever talked about before, but Jubilee isn’t blind to it.

Sweet Pea’s fingers squeeze around the back of her neck, just enough for her to feel it. His gaze softens as he stares up at her, deep russet eyes searching hers. The hand around her neck slips away, though he doesn’t go far, fingers lingering against her cheek before he brushes her hair away from her face, winding a long strand of her dark hair around his finger.

“I would love to be a Jones,” Sweet Pea tells her, nothing but sincerity swimming in his gaze, a heart-stopping grin spreading across his face before he suddenly hauls her back down to meet him, fingers tangling in her hair.

Jubilee’s laughter is smothered by his lips meeting hers once more in a feverish kiss.

When she pulls away from him, still giggling, Sweet Pea’s lips twist into something akin to a frown, his nose wrinkling as his eyes narrow just a tick in annoyance. “What’s with that face?” She brushes his hair away from his eyes, stroking his cheek.

“I just remembered I’m going to be related to your brother,” Sweet Pea grumbles, pulling another face, humor alight in his eyes. Jubilee snorts, rolling her eyes at him. He pinches her hip, making her yelp in surprise. “Jubilee, this is serious.” He clucks his tongue at her, and Jubilee has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the faux somber expression on his face. “How can I be in-laws with someone that goes by ‘Jughead’?”

“Says the guy who goes by ‘ _Sweet Pea_.’ ”

His brows jump towards his hairline, eyes widening at her tone. Jubilee is still trying to smother her laughter, though it’s difficult with the offense flashing in his eyes. While Sweet Pea and Jughead are on better terms than they were back in high school, their relationship is still rocky some days. “Oh, you think this is funny?” he teases. “I’ll give you something to laugh about!”

Jubilee barely has time to gasp before Sweet Pea flips them over, hovering over her and staring down at her with a positively mischievous look.

Her breath catches in her throat, blinking up at him owlishly as his weight settles against her, his fingers running along her sides in warning. Jubilee tenses, trying to subtly shift away from his hands. “Sweets, don’t you dare.” She tries to sound stern as she says it, but the twitching of her lips gives her away. His fingers suddenly dart against her sides, drawing a squeal from her as his fingers prod at her ticklish ribs. “Sweets!” she shrikes, his name a giggle as he continues to run his hands over the most sensitive parts of her rib cage, poking and prodding where he knows he’ll get a reaction.

Sweet Pea laughs with her, nose bumping against hers playfully as she squirms beneath him, trying to shift away from his mischievous fingers, only to find herself trapped between his legs and the bed with nowhere to go. He drops more weight onto her, and she can barely hear him mumble something about her brother beneath her loud peels of laughter. She swats at his teasing hands, but he persists, tickling her until she’s gasping beneath him, tears streaming down her cheeks and her side growing sore from her laughter.

Jubilee vaguely hears a “please” fall from her mouth as his fingers begin to slow, his tickling ceasing until his hands slip away from her entirely, coming up to cage her head, forearms braced against the mattress as he stares down at her, gaze soft as he meets her eyes. He grins and Jubilee sends him a small smile, chest still heaving as she pants.

“Asshole,” she huffs, languidly draping her arms around his neck, Sweet Pea’s smile growing as he leans down to press his lips to hers briefly. His mouth shifts to her neck quickly, the sensitive skin already littered with an array of small red marks. She sighs as he presses butterfly kisses from the underside of her jaw down to the base of her neck, perusing her skin slowly.

He hums, nipping at her collarbone, voice muffled as he mumbles “you love me” against her chest, teeth grazing her skin and making her squirm. The pads of his fingers brush against her waist, moving higher until he’s palming her breast.

Jubilee rolls her eyes, trying not to shiver as his lips wander down to her bare chest, mouth hot on her skin. “Again?” She clucks her tongue at him, though she allows him to nudge her legs apart anyway, eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands skims back down her side, settling on her hip. The other kneads at her breast, his mouth moving lower as he slides down her body.

He chuckles, low and throaty and she sighs again as the vibration tickles at her stomach. “It’s only noon, Baby,” Sweet Pea reminds her, shifting towards the end of the bed, leaving her cold and wanting as his hand curls around her thigh, his lips teasing the skin beneath her bellybutton. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Her head tilts back against the pillow, his breath ghosting across her lower abdomen. She swallows back a soft sound before it can slip passed her lips. “You know,” she muses, nearly tripping over her words as his thumb brushes against her nipple, not sounding convincing in the slightest, “we really should go to that Serpent meeting.”

“Fuck the meeting,” he murmurs, placing another kiss just below her navel. Jubilee’s fingers thread through his hair, back arching as his teeth graze her hip.

* * *

 

They end up missing the meeting.

Jubilee and Sweet Pea don’t leave their home until the next night after his proposal, too wrapped up in one another and their excitement to share it. As much as they love their Serpent family, neither wanted to celebrate their engagement with the others yet, content to bask in each others presence for at least one day.

It isn’t until dusk the next night that they finally step foot in the Whyte Wyrm, the lights low and the room smelling of cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke, the scent of it thick in the air and heavy on their tongues. Nothing has changed, not really, but they still grin like fools each time they look at one another. Their smiles gain them a few curious looks from some of the older Serpents, but if their presence was missed the night before, no one breathes a word of it, everyone slipping back into routine. Finding their friends was easy enough, the group huddled in the back corner as usual. The pair of them slip into the conversation easily, mumbling greetings before Fangs delves into a story about several of the younger Serpents.

It’s normal, for the most part, aside from the excitement still buzzing through her veins and a slight shift in their body language. Sweet Pea’s hands are on her more than usual—her back, her hip, winding in her hair—and Jubilee can’t stop playing with the ring on her finger, but if any of their friends notice they don’t appear to care. Fangs prattles on, hands moving wildly as he gestures with his beer, nearly spilling his drink on Toni, who cringes and ducks behind Joaquin, Jughead snickering from his spot against the wall.

Jubilee spins the ring on her finger, playing with the silver band absentmindedly as she listens to the boys delve into some conversation about new recruits and the trouble some of the younger Serpents have been getting into. Fangs cracks a joke about the time the four of them were arrested for a drunken dare, Jughead rolling his eyes and trying to hide a smile, while Sweet Pea throws his head back in laughter. She leans more into his side, two of his fingers rubbing against her arm beneath her sleeve.

Joaquin downs the rest of his beer, shaking his head at Fangs before turning his attention to Jubilee and Sweet Pea, one brow quirked up. “So where the hell were you two yesterday?” he asks, a teasing note to his voice, blue eyes glinting with humor. “It’s not like the two of you to miss a meeting.” His lips twitch upwards at the edge. “Well, not _Jubilee_.”

“Yeah, that’s not very Serpent Kingly, Pea,” Fangs snarks, mischievous grin pulling at his lips. It isn’t an official title yet, but it came as no surprise to anyone when FP started grooming Sweet Pea to be the next leader of the Southside Serpents, though it did stir some unrest in the gang. There were plenty of people who assumed the title would be passed to Jughead, or even Jubilee, the Jones name holding weight on the Southside.

That shouldn’t be a problem in the upcoming future.

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes in annoyance as Joaquin and Fangs snicker and shifts so that Jubilee is in front of him. She leans back against his chest as his arms snake around her waist, his chin dropping down to rest against the crown of her head. “Fuck off,” he snaps at his friends, good-natured. His fingers find the bare strip of skin peeking out beneath the hem of Jubilee’s top, thumb rubbing circles against her hip. “We were busy.”

Fangs snorts, downing the rest of his beer. “Oh, I bet you were.” He wiggles his brows suggestively.

Jughead chokes on his drink, blanching and shooting the other Serpent a dirty look. “Fangs, that’s my sister!” His nose wrinkles up in disgust as he glances at Jubilee and Sweet Pea wrapped up together, neither denying the claim.

“Yeah,” Fangs agrees, ducking away from Jughead swatting at his arm, “and they’ve been fucking each other for, like, the last seven years. What’s your point?”

The rest of them laugh at the face Jughead pulls, and Sweet Pea ducks his chin to press a quick kiss to her cheek, his grip around her tightening as the boys begin to squabble. Jubilee and Toni share a look, eyes rolling as they grin. The rumble of Sweet Pea’s voice echoes through her bones, his chest pressed tight to her back. Lying her hands over his on her waist, Jubilee leans further into him and Sweet Pea easily links their hands together, absentmindedly playing with the ring on her finger.

None of the boys notice this, but Toni does. Her eyes narrow as Sweet Pea continues to thumb at the ring, twisting it around Jubilee’s finger slowly, as if he can’t quite believe that it’s there.

Normally, there wouldn’t be anything strange about Jubilee wearing one. The Southside Serpents wear rings more often than not, a trademark much like the Ghoulies’ face paint. It’s how they’re recognized, just as much as the leather jackets and snake tattoos. And Jubilee is no exception to that, often with multiple bands lining her fingers. But usually they’re heavier, meant for bruising as much as aesthetic, and the ring on her finger now is too thin for that, too delicate against her skin.

Jubilee bites her lip as Toni continues to stare at her hand, slowly putting the pieces together. The diamond in the ring flashes as the dim lighting hits it at just the right angle, and Toni’s eyes widen when she catches sight of it. Her gaze snaps up to meet Jubilee’s, a question there as her eyes flicker back down to the ring and then up just as quickly, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

A slow smile spreads across Jubilee’s lips, and it’s answer enough.

“Oh my god,” Toni blurts, startling Jughead, who blinks down at her in confusion.

Jughead shares a bemused look with Fangs, while Joaquin grins. He quirks a brow, lips twitching slightly as he stares down at Toni, eyeing the drink in her hands in amusement. “Toni, what are you—”

Toni shoves her half finished drink into Fangs’ hands, cutting off Jughead as she lunges forward. “Oh my god, Jubilee!” Her arms coil tight around the other girl, who laughs, drink nearly spilling from her hand as she’s yanked out of Sweet Pea’s grasp and pulled into a ferocious hug. Toni clings to her, slightly tipsy, and the two stumble as Jubilee’s balance shifts with the sudden weight of her friend.

The boys watch, equal parts amused and perplexed until Sweet Pea chuckles, his hands settling on Jubilee’s hips to hold her steady as the girls stagger. “Easy there, Topaz,” he warns playfully. His gaze flicks to their other friends, and because they don’t seem to understand he adds, “I’d like my fiancée in one piece.”

A little thrill runs up her spine as the word fiancée leaves his mouth, a warmth blooming in her chest.

It takes a second, but then there’s a flurry of motion from the group of Serpents. It seems to click for Jughead first, and he blinks at the couple owlishly when it does, his mouth dropping open as he repeats the word. It’s one of the first times in her life that Jubilee has seen her brother speechless. Toni finally pulls away from her, murmuring congratulations as she drags Sweet Pea down for an embrace as well. Fangs cracks a joke about how it took Sweet Pea long enough and receives a swift, automatic punch to the arm, but Fangs only grins as he swoops down to grab Jubilee in a tight hug, lifting her straight off the ground. For his part, Joaquin looks on in amusement, not looking the least bit surprised by the news as he meets Jubilee’s gaze over Fangs’ shoulder and winks, mouthing a _congratulations_.

“You can still change your mind,” Jughead whispers as he leans down, arms wrapping around her. There’s mirth in his eyes as he pulls back, ruffling her hair, and she swats at him, eyes rolling as he chuckles to himself.

“Asshole,” she calls him, but she’s smiling, and he looks like he might cry as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, dragging her in for another hug before she can slip away.

Jubilee and Sweet Pea are eventually dragged apart with the arrival of Betty and Toni’s girlfriend Natalia, who seem equal parts surprised and elated over the news, their excitement palpable. Natalia echoes Fangs sentiment of “finally!” and Betty seems happy but awkward, still on the fringes of their little group. No matter their relationships with Jughead, they’ve never quite been friends.

The news spreads fast through the bar, the Serpents ready for any excuse to celebrate, and somehow she ends up with a shot of whiskey in her hand and Natalia Barros squinting down at the ring on her finger, nodding in begrudging approval of the craftsmanship.

If any of them recognize the connection between the ring and Fox Forest, they don’t mention it.

She’s congratulated more times than she can count and eventually her eyes begin to stray from her friends, seeking out Sweet Pea in the crowded bar. She catches sight of him across the room, his gaze already on her, only half-listening to Fangs prattling on beside him. His eyes crinkle at the edges as he grins at her, and it’s one of the happiest she’s ever seen him.

 

 

 

At some point in the night, Jubilee finds herself alone, leaning back against the bar and nursing a drink unceremoniously shoved into her hands by an excited younger Serpent, the bar buzzing in celebration with the news of her and Sweet Pea’s engagement. It isn’t often that there are weddings on the Southside, and less so with the Serpents. But they’re a family in their own ways, and one person’s excitement is infectious, spreading easily throughout the rambunctious group.

Sweet Pea catches her eye from where he’s bent over one of the pool tables, a smile pulling at his lips as soon as he sees her. A grin slips onto her own face as Fangs elbows him, saying something that makes Sweet Pea rolls his eyes, and she hides it behind her drink, shoulders shaking with laughter as they begin to shove at one another, acting more like teenagers than grown adults.

Someone slides up beside her, but she doesn’t take her eyes off her fiancé, already knowing who it is. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, gaze following hers and eventually he snorts, shaking his head as he watches them.

“It looks like your mom’s,” he says suddenly, gesturing to her ring with his glass of straight Coke. Jubilee glances up at her father, eyes meeting his for only a moment before he turns back to the boys, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He better take good care of you,” FP continues, nodding towards Sweet Pea as they stand together and watch Joaquin and Fangs tease Sweet Pea for something.

Jubilee’s smile slips into something a little smaller. “He always has,” she tells him. Sweet Pea has always protected her, reminded her that she has a home with him. She can’t remember ever feeling anything but safe with him.

FP’s shoulder knocks against hers and she leans into his side, his arm slipping around her shoulders and pulling her into a loose embrace. He leans down to press a kiss to her temple. “I’m happy for you, Kid,” he whispers, squeezing her shoulder briefly, voice thick and tinged with something she can’t quite place. Jubilee tilts her head back to look up at him, and it’s hard to see in the dim lighting of the Wyrm, but she could swear that his eyes were a little too bright and watery.

She leans further into him.

* * *

 

In the weeks since Sweet Pea’s proposal she’s woken every morning with knots in her hair, wildflowers blooming in the cracks of their floorboards despite the frost on the windows. There’s a boldness to the actions that unnerve her, a restlessness in the forest that she can’t quite pinpoint that leaves her nervous. Sweet Pea can feel it too, a static in the air, like electricity before a storm, and it makes both of their skin itch and crawl, a sick feeling pooling in their stomachs that won’t leave. It’s worse for him.  He’s never quite believed in the old ways of the forest, not like Jubilee and her mother, but he’s always respected them regardless.

It’s dangerous not to in Riverdale. Fox Forest doesn’t like to be ignored, and now the trees have begun to shriek their displeasure, the wind howling in the darkest hours of the night. The gifts left by the Folk are rarely so frequent, only given on nights with a full moon, on the Equinox or Solstice, but never for several consecutive days. It means something is coming. They can feel it in the air, like static. The forest wants something.

Riverdale smells like something is burning. Like lightning struck one morning and the effects are lingering. The town is more restless than usual, all of that unrestrained energy bubbling up and out with nowhere to go. The trees outside wail like they’re grieving something, the woods ringing with a shrill, sad cry, that echoes before fading in the foggy pines, though there’s nothing yet to mourn.

A yawning grave has been opened in Riverdale, an open wound.

She hears of the Blood Moon from her mother, how it makes the forest restless and wild, all of Riverdale unsettled by the shifting in the air. It’s a rare spectacle, a bloody full moon and a lunar eclipse. It hasn’t happened before, not on the night of the rising Wolf Moon. It’s a dangerous night. The full moon always leaves Riverdale unsettled, a power to it, one that allows the Folk to wander, seeking something. And the January Moon is different from the others, named for the howling of hungry wolves lamenting the midwinter scarcity of food. The Folk are hungry now. And their hunger makes them dangerous, volatile. Jubilee doesn’t know how to calm them.

There are rumors, old myths that still cling to those who practice the Old Religion, but they’re scarce whispers, remnants of a time when Riverdale was darker, bloodier, magic still running through the river. It’s been years since, but the Blood Moon digs up what’s long since been buried.

_Tribute_ , her mother tells her one night over the phone, _payment in blood_. _Sacrifice_.

It makes her skin crawl, a pit forming in her stomach. The knots in her hair grow tighter, more mangled, and the wildflowers turn to nettles.

It’s not until she wakes with thorns under her pillow that Jubilee realizes she has to make a choice. Tribute. _Payment in blood_. Sweet Pea’s jaw clenches when she tells him, eyes hardening even as her fingers ghost along his neck, placating him. He’s never liked the forest rituals, never quite trusted her mother and the blood that used to stain the skin beneath her fingernails, but with Jubilee’s lips on his jaw he relents, hands sliding down to grasp her hips.

 

 

 

There’s a clearing at the heart of Fox Forest, tucked away where most wouldn’t dare to enter, too far into the woods. It’s easy to lose one’s way that deep. There’s few trees there, smaller and spread farther apart than most others in the forest. In the summer the glade is overwrought with undergrowth, grass tall, bushes and vines curing across the grass, the roots of the trees winding together in graceful knots. The dell is changed in mid-winter. Barren and silent. A hollowed out chest.

Blood has been spilt in the woods before to pacify the Old Gods, to quiet their rage, but not in many years. Not since before her mother and so many other pagans left, traveling further north.

At the center of it all is what her mother calls a Godswood, tall and towering over the heart of the glade, basking in the moonlight. The branches of the tree curl overhead, long and winding, spattered with garnet leaves long after the frost has set in, vibrant against the stark bone-white of the bark. Gnarled roots protrude from the earth, twisted and knotting together where the tree rests, stretching across the open space.

The Wolf Moon shines above the clearing, casting a soft red glow across the fresh snowfall and the winding branches towering above. The snow crunches quietly beneath Jubilee’s feet as she takes a step further into the clearing, one hand knotted in the deep burgundy fabric of her lace dress, the hem trailing across the ground behind her, a remnant of her mother’s time in Riverdale. Her mother called it ceremonial once. The heavy lace spills from her bare shoulders, goose bumps prickling at her skin even beneath the three-quarter sleeves, though the cold of winter doesn’t reach her, warded away by the forest spirits.

With one hand she reaches back, fingers finding Sweet Pea’s as he steps up behind her, his breath fogging in the night as they come to stand before the towering tree. He pulls his leather jacket tighter around his shoulders, thumb sweeping across the back of her hand as his dark eyes roam around the glade. Above them, the Blood Moon is almost complete, only a thin, pale sliver of the moon glinting behind the red cast shadow. Almost time.

Her fingers lace through Sweet Pea’s as she takes another step, pulling him with her as she stares at the Godswood. The tree seems to whisper in a language neither Jubilee nor Sweet Pea understand as they come closer, words lost in the wind. Neither speak as they wait, the sky darkening. The Wolf Moon rises; the forest bays for blood.

As red completely eclipses the moon, Jubilee releases Sweet Pea’s hand, her fingers wander beneath his jacket, curling around the switchblade he keeps tucked away. A muscle in his jaw jumps as she pulls the knife from his pocket, the blade glinting silver in the moonlight. The forest calls for a sacrifice, a contribution in flesh and bone, but that bloodlust can be quelled.

Jubilee isn’t her mother.

A small, shaky breath tumbles passed her lips, but she doesn’t look at Sweet Pea as she places the thin edge of the blade against her skin, just between her thumb and first finger. She holds her left palm out to the Godswood, an offering. The clearing quiets, waiting for her to move. _Blood for blood_. “Fola le haghaidh fola,” she whispers, dragging the blade across her palm. Red liquid bubbles up from the cut, bright against her pale skin. Her hand tilts to the side, fingers curling towards her palm.

The forest settles as Jubilee’s blood spills to the ground, bright against the starkness of the snow as the drops seep into the roots of the tree, staining the bone-bark. The cold bites at the cut on her palm, crawling inside her, but the chill is quelled with the woods.

Her hands drop back to her sides, a sigh slipping pass her lips. Sweet Pea watches her, jaw clenched tight as he sees the blood spilling from between her fingers. The Blood Moon lingers.

Sweet Pea reaches across her body, fingers curling around the knife in her hand and gently pulling it from between her fingers, a thin line of her blood glinting on the blade. Jubilee’s gaze shifts to the knife before lifting to meet his eyes, allowing him to worm the blade from her grasp. The forest goes silent, drawing in a deep breath as Sweet Pea holds out his hand much like she did, palm skyward. Jubilee watches, half-surprised at his boldness, but she doesn’t stop him as he presses the blade to his skin with no hesitation, drawing a slow line across his palm just as she had moments before.

Blood drips into the snow from the fist he makes.

His gaze locks with hers as he flicks the blade shut, slipping it back into the pocket of his jacket. “Fola le haghaidh fola,” he murmurs to the earth, echoing her words from earlier. _Blood for blood_.

 

 

 

His hand leaves a bloody trail across her skin, along her jaw and down the column of her throat as he backs her against their front door. There’s a roaring in her veins as his thumb presses to her pulse, heart pounding in her chest, and she grasps at him desperately. She cups his face, hands snaking around his neck, and there’s blood on his shirt when her hands slip beneath his jacket, shoving the leather from his broad shoulders. He releases her only long enough to let it fall to the floor before he’s on her again, mouth and teeth and tongue. Her dress pools at her feet, his hands on her thighs as he presses her against the door. There’s a lingering energy in the air and it crackles as their bare skin slides together. She gasps his name, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back as the Blood Moon wanes.

Sweet Pea’s breath is shaky against her bare breast.

The yawning grave closes.

* * *

 

They’ve been engaged for just over three weeks and the restless energy of the Blood Moon is still humming in their bones when FP calls Sweet Pea out on a job.

They’re at the Wyrm, crowded into a booth with Fangs, Toni, and Natalia, discussing wedding plans that Natalia has taken firm control over, much to Sweet Pea’s amusement. He could happily marry Jubilee right now, tonight, at Riverdale’s courthouse with nothing more than a witness and a promise of forever, because he’s never needed anything to tell him that Jubilee is his and he’s hers, but there’s a part of him that wants that big wedding, with their friends and family.

And he promised her that dance.

Sweet Pea has Jubilee on his lap, his arm slung around her waist and her own wrapped tight around his torso as they both shake with laughter, Fangs and Natalia arguing about color schemes while Toni eggs them on, when FP walks up and tells him they have business. He doesn’t say anything else, words clipped and stern, but there’s a dark shadow under his eyes and Sweet Pea’s jaw clenches when he sees it. He doesn’t ask, just slides out from underneath Jubilee, only lingering for a moment to press his lips to her temple and shoot Fangs a meaningful look before following FP outside.

 

 

 

They pull up beside another truck just in front of a warehouse in Centerville, three miles outside of the city, and when Sweet Pea shuts the passenger-side door the sound echoes. They don’t use this warehouse much anymore, not since Los Lobos moved into the city and started claiming territory. It’s not safe for the Serpents to do business so far from Riverdale anymore, and the pit forming in his stomach grows as he considers what might be in that building.

But FP makes no move to go inside, even as the snowfall picks up and the wind rips through them both, their leather jackets only doing so much to protect them from the cold. Instead, the Serpent King pulls out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes and rests against the side of the truck, far too relaxed as he looks out over the field surrounding the building.

Sweet Pea crosses his arms, leaning back beside FP as the man flicks open the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind. He wets his lips, glancing at FP out of the corner of his eye, trying not to fiddle with the bandage wrapped around his left palm, the ghost of the knife still lingering there.

“You didn’t call me out here just for the job,” he notes. It’s not a question and they both know it. If it was purely business, they wouldn’t be lingering outside.

FP takes a long drag from his cigarette before looking at Sweet Pea, and even then he doesn’t answer straight away. He offers the pack, but Sweet Pea waves him off. He hasn’t touched them in years, not since Jubilee made him promise not to.

He doesn’t press, only shoves the pack back into his pocket. “You can’t be half a Serpent,” FP tells him simply. Sweet Pea’s head snaps around, but FP still doesn’t look at him, his gaze cast over the field. He doesn’t take another drag from the cigarette, only waits.

While Sweet Pea’s first instinct is to bite back, anger flaring easily at the barbed insult, he holds back his temper, teeth grinding together as he narrows his eyes at his Fiancée’s father. Sweet Pea’s arms unfold, hands clenching at his sides. He exhales slowly, breath fogging in the chilly night air. “You questioning my loyalty?”

“No.” FP chuckles and Sweet Pea’s jaw locks. The double-headed snake on the side of his throat moves as he swallows back his rage. FP brings the cigarette back to his mouth, finally turning to Sweet Pea as he breathes out smoke. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

His eyes narrow just a tick. “Do you mean with the Serpents or with Jubilee?” Sweet Pea and FP haven’t had the chance to talk since he and Jubilee announced their engagement, and for a moment he wonders if this is a threat. He’s never been on bad terms with FP, being one of his more trusted enforcers, ever since he was a teenager, but their relationship was tense for a while after he started dating Jubilee. Back then he was a heartbreaker and a troublemaker, even if he was a good leader to the younger Serpents after Joaquin was sent running. But he’s always been loyal to her, and FP hasn’t questioned that in years.

FP snorts, an easy sort of smile pulling at his lips. “Both,” he muses, gaze pulling away from Sweet Pea’s as he glances down at the cigarette in his hand, twirling it between his fingers and flicking away the ashes burning at the tip. “I wasn’t expecting you to propose to her now.” He sighs, leaning further back against the truck before tossing the half finished cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.

Sweet Pea grins, shaking his head as he stares at the crushed cigarette. “That makes two of us,” he murmurs back. He meant it when he said he wasn’t planning to propose to Jubilee until the spring. But that morning he looked at her and knew he would never be able to wait that long.

“You always put her first,” FP starts slowly, choosing the words carefully, and Sweet Pea stiffens, knowing what FP is going to say even before it leaves his mouth. “You made that clear when you missed the meeting the other day.” FP turns to him again, leveling him with a heavy stare, and Sweet Pea swallows, looking away.

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, voice softer than usual. His fingers flex at his sides, the pit in his stomach heavier than before.

FP laughs lightly, clapping Sweet Pea on the shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, boy,” he clarifies, shifting to face Sweet Pea more directly, “but you need to know it’s not always easy being Serpent King and a husband.” There’s something almost soft in his eyes, wistful and melancholy, but it’s clouded by the harsh tone in his voice. FP releases him, an edge to his next words. “You ain’t careful and somethin’ll have to give.”

Staring at the other man for a moment, Sweet Pea takes in his expression, a grim line stretched across FP’s face. It clicks in him easily what FP is getting at, what he thinks will have to give, because FP was devoted to his own wife once too, until the crown became too heavy.

“With all respect, FP,” Sweet Pea starts, tone icy, “I’m not you.”

FP levels him with a calculated stare. “No,” he muses suddenly, “you definitely aren’t.”

They lapse into a heavy silence and the wind howls as it rushes around them. Sweet Pea wets his lips, unsure what to make of FP’s final comment. “Is that why she left?” He asks suddenly, returning FP’s look. “Your wife?”

The Serpent King stiffens slightly, and Sweet Pea thinks he’s gone too far, but FP only straightens his jacket and turns towards the warehouse for the first time, ignoring the biting comment. He shoves away from the truck, gesturing with his head for Sweet Pea to follow, and stalks towards the warehouse.

Sweet Pea sighs before following, trailing only a step behind FP, still leery of the building. It isn’t often they have business in Centerville anymore, not in the last three years, so whatever reason they’re here now can’t be good. FP slides the doors open easily, the lock already undone, and Sweet Pea’s hand slips into his jacket pocket, fingers curling around his knife.

The warehouse is old, one FP bought in an auction over a decade ago. It’s one the Serpents used to store illegal firearms in before Los Lobos moved into Centerville. Close enough to get to in a day, but far enough for FP to claim ignorance if anyone ever found the guns. They’ve had to move further north recently, up past Greendale to another storehouse. Though that’s hard to do with the Ghoulies moving in the same direction.

Sweet Pea stiffens as the warehouse doors immediately slam shut behind them. Out of the corner of his eye he sees another Serpent, Wick, lock the door, standing guard, arms crossed over his chest. He nods at Sweet Pea when their eyes briefly meet, but says nothing, mouth set into a grim line.

The slamming of the door shatters the room’s silence and an older Serpent named Dutch looks up as they step into the open room, expression as hard as Wick’s, his grey eyes icy and shirt spattered with flecks of blood. He straightens when his gaze locks with FP’s, though he says nothing. Dutch’s eyes snaps from FP to sweet Pea, surprise flickering in his gaze, but it’s gone just as suddenly as it was there.

Sweet Pea frowns back at him, eyes narrowing in confusion until he notices the shivering body on the ground by Dutch’s feet.

It’s not someone he recognizes, but the boy is young, a little younger than Sweet Pea, with trembling hands, breaths coming out in gasps, blood dripping from his nose. He murmurs something Sweet Pea can’t hear and it sounds like pleading. The boy looks up and Sweet Pea can see the remains of black and white paint streaked across his jaw and forehead, barely visible under the bruises beginning to form and the blood matting his hair from a cut to his temple. A Ghoulie.

It’s no surprise what’s happening. The Serpents have always had their particular brand of justice, one more violent than most, but Sweet Pea has never seen that justice dealt himself, only cleaned up after it. It’s inevitable in the kind of business they do. Arms dealing and smuggling has never been clean trade. The Serpents have had to deal with traitors before, thieves and snitches, and it’s always been dirty work.

“FP?” Sweet Pea questions, turning to the older man, but FP ignores him, staring at Dutch expectantly, his arms crossed over his chest. It’s not often that the Serpent King himself is called in to deal with business, not unless it’s personal.

Dutch wets his lips, gaze shifting between FP and Sweet Pea again before he turns to the Ghoulie at his feet, spitting on the ground before placing a swift kick between the young man’s ribs. He yelps, curling in on himself slightly, and starts murmuring again. “Tell them what you did,” Dutch demands, voice rough and tinged with a snarl.

Sweet Pea’s gaze flicks to FP, but the Serpent King still says nothing, merely watching as Dutch deals another harsh blow to the Ghoulie’s side, drops of blood spattering across the ground. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Sweet Pea clenches his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping at the tension.

“Please,” the Ghoulie suddenly sobs, holding his hands up in front of him, blue eyes wide and watery as he looks up at FP, quivering. “I swear,” he says, “I _swear_ I didn’t know.” He chokes off with a watery gasp, and Sweet Pea takes a step forward, frown pulling at his lips. “ _Fuck_. I didn’t know she was some Serpent’s girl, okay! I wouldn’t have touched the bitch if I knew!”

Sweet Pea stills, that pit in his stomach building again, gut twisting sickly as the realization hits him. There are some things the Serpents don’t tolerate, lines they don’t cross.

“Please.” The Ghoulie is still staring at FP, nonsense falling out of his mouth. FP frowns, but moves to stand in front of him. “You have to believe me,” he tries again.

Slowly, FP crouches before the sobbing man. He sighs, shaking his head, and looks down at the younger man in pity. He leans in close enough to whisper in the Ghoulie’s ear, the room so quiet everyone can hear him over the man’s ragged breathing. “I’m not the one you should be begging,” FP tells him evenly, pulling back to watch the confusion twist onto his face.

FP exhales slowly as he stands, straightening his jacket as he shares a look with Dutch. The other man nods, taking a step back, and FP turns on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets as walks back towards the door, pausing beside Sweet Pea. “You’re a good man, Jin Yuan,” FP tells him, using his full name for the first time that Sweet Pea can remember.

He doesn’t say anything else, but the message is clear. _The choice is yours_ , the Serpent King’s eyes say. But they don’t have time for good men, not here.

Sweet Pea turns back to the sobbing Ghoulie, excuses still spilling from his mouth, this time directed at Sweet Pea himself. His throat goes tight as FP claps him on the shoulder, squeezing briefly before letting go and stalking towards the door. Wick slams it shut behind him.

“Please,” the Ghoulie begs.

And he thinks of Jubilee. Of Toni. And he knows somewhere deep in his chest that if anyone ever touched them he would rip them to pieces.

“Get up,” Sweet Pea murmurs, expression steely as he turns to the man on the ground. His hand slips into his jacket, fingers curling through a familiar object in his pocket. The Ghoulie stills as Sweet Pea pulls out the weapon, the metal glinting around his knuckles, arms going slack at his sides. Sighing, Sweet Pea clenches his fist. “I said get up.”

 

 

 

This time, when FP offers him a cigarette Sweet Pea takes it, hands shaking, the screams still ringing in his ears. FP says nothing, only watches as Sweet Pea struggles with the lighter, unable to get it to spark. A quivering sigh slips passed his lips, his eyes squeezing shut. His hand clenches around the lighter before he hurls it away. The cigarette gets lost in the snow.

There’s a quiet voice in the back of his mind that whispers _this is what you wanted_ , spitting poison at him. The cut on his palm stings, split open, and his knuckles are bruised black and oozing blood. He wants Jubilee, he realizes a moment later. He wants to go home.

It’s the second time he comes home in under a week with bloodstains on his hands, only this time it isn’t his. He’s only able to breathe again when he sees her, curled up tight on the couch in one of his sweaters, waiting for him. The smile that starts to spread across her face disappears as she sees the haunted look in his eyes, the blood on his hands, and she _knows_. Without him saying a word, she knows that something’s happened.

He whispers love against her skin that night, with his hands, his mouth, his beating heart thrumming in his chest. He says it once, twice, a dozen times, unsure if he can ever stop saying it.

“I love you,” Sweet Pea breathes against her, a shuddering gasp in her ear. “I love you.”

* * *

 

What happened in the warehouse hangs heavy over the two of them, clotting the air like smoke, but Jubilee doesn’t ask and he doesn’t tell. They don’t talk about that night, even as the circles under his eyes grow darker, deeper, and threaten to consume him. He doesn’t sleep at night, unable to keep his eyes shut for long, and when he does he wakes up gasping, struggling in his sleep, unable to remember where he is.

Sweet Pea’s taken to sleeping on the couch because of it. Because it scares him with Jubilee lying right next to him. He doesn’t come out of nightmares quickly, he fights them, and he’s terrified that he might not recognize her behind the haze. If she realizes that’s why he hasn’t been sleeping beside her, she hasn’t said anything, but he can feel the concern in her gaze like a physical touch every morning when she comes out of their room alone.

The door at the back of the trailer creaks open softly and Sweet Pea shifts, sitting up on his elbows to peer over the back of the couch, squinting to see through the darkness. Jubilee slips out of their room, an old quilt wrapped around her frame. His eyes follow her as she pads across the floor, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as she steps around the edge of the couch. Sweet Pea lies back against the furniture, arms opening easily, allowing her to settle on top of him. Her familiar weight on his chest makes him sigh, shoulders relaxing as his arms encircle her frame. She fights with the quilt for a moment, struggling to wrap it around them both, and his chest shakes in silent laughter.

It takes them a moment to get situated, the couch small but familiar and it keeps them close. Jubilee sighs as she relaxes against him, face tucked into the crook of his neck, nose cold against his skin. She leans in to press her lips against the side of his throat, keeping them there as she whispers, “missed you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Baby,” he promises against her hair, heart seizing at her words. His fingers slip beneath the hem of her shirt, drawing nonsensical shapes against her, needing to feel her skin against his. Sighing, his grip around her tightens, body immediately relaxing into her. Sweet Pea’s throat goes tight, fingers pressing into her back. He’s missed her, holding her. “Jubilee, I—”

She hushes him, palm sliding up his chest to press against his beating heart. “I know,” she whispers, kissing his neck again. “You don’t have to tell me.” Jubilee tucks herself against his side, half on top of him, and tangles their legs together, anchoring them in place.

He believes her when she says she knows. She’s always had a way of understanding exactly what he means, even when he can’t get the words out.

“What if I’m not good enough?” he asks instead, shifting to peer down at her, but her gaze is far away, tracing the shadows on the walls. He didn’t understand what it meant to be the Serpent King, not until now. And it wasn’t the blood on his hands that scared him. No, it was coming home to Jubilee and realizing that he’d kill for her if he had to, to protect her.

Maybe FP was right. Maybe something does have to give, but he’ll be _damned_ if it’s her.

“You are.” Her head tilts up, eyes shifting to his, and suddenly he can breathe again. Her fingers splay across his chest, thumb sweeping back and forth across his skin for a moment before sliding up his neck to the tattoo resting there.

He snorts, a bitter bark of a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest. “You don’t know that,” he snaps, harsher than he means to, but Jubilee only stares at him for a long moment before sitting up. She settles over him, legs on either side of his waist, hands on his chest.

Her amber eyes lock with his, pinning him in place.

“I know who you are,” she tells him, firm, and the certainty in her words makes him still. Jubilee lets out a slow breath, hands finding his and pinning them to the couch beside his head, forcing him to look at her, nothing but sincerity in her gaze. “I know that you’re brave,” she starts, fingers squeezing around his. “And strong. And smarter than you think.” His throat goes tight, eyes searching hers for something he doesn’t quite understand. “And you’re more loyal to the Serpents than you should be at times. I know my dad would be a fool to pick anyone but you to lead the Serpents after him.”

Her fingers slip from between his and slide down, passing his wrists and arms to his shoulders. Again, her fingers trace the tattoo on his neck before coming up to cup his face, cradling him to her. She leans over him, dark hair tickling at his bare chest. “And I know you’re a good man, Sweet Pea.” She says it so softly that his heart aches in his chest. “You’re so _good_ ,” Jubilee tells him, gaze watery, “and you don’t even realize it.”

“What if I can’t do it?” he asks her, barely above a whisper. Sweet Pea’s hands move then, settling on her hips, fingers creeping back beneath her shirt, the quilt pooled around her waist. “What if I can’t be Serpent King?”

Her thumb brushes across his cheek. “Then you don’t,” she tells him simply, shrugging. “He picks Jughead or Joaquin or Fangs or anyone else. And we get married in the spring.” Jubilee leans into him, nose brushing against his, making him sigh. “And I love you. Always.”

Sweet Pea’s breath catches. “Say it again,” he murmurs against her lips, pleading, hands sliding high on her torso, fingers ghosting along her sides.

Jubilee smiles. “I love you,” she repeats, and it sounds like a promise.

* * *

 

Sweet Pea’s mother is a florist, her little shop the most welcoming place on the Southside of Riverdale. She’s owned it for years, even before Sweet Pea was born, and grows most of her flowers in a garden behind her house. Much like Jubilee, Mei Hua Yuan is special, favored by the Folk, though no one knows why. Her flowers bloom late into the fall, long after the first frost, and early in the spring, and they never seem to wilt unless she wants them to. Jubilee asked her about the flowers once, when she was younger and just started working there, but Mei Hua only winked and whispered something in Mandarin that Jubilee didn’t understand, a secretive smile on her lips.

She asked Sweet Pea to teach her bits of Mandarin after that, but she never has learned what Mei Hua said that day.

Jubilee has been working there since she was a teenager, even before she started dating Sweet Pea. There’s always been something about the shop that feels a little bit like home.

Mei Hua cries when she first hears of their engagement, even though she’s been calling Jubilee _daughter_ for the last three years, and Jubilee cries as well, because her own mother wasn’t half as happy when she learned the same news.

 

 

 

Jubilee has her back to the counter when the bell above the front door rings, and her hands still as she stops absently weaving baby’s breath and forget-me-nots together. It’s been a quiet day at the shop, quieter than usual due to the late January chill, but with February coming fast, the shop is sure to be busy in the coming weeks.

She’s been up front for most of the morning, Mei Hua in the back tending to her roses, which she doesn’t let anyone else touch before they’re ready, calling it bad luck. There’s some kind of magic in the woman’s touch, and the roses aren’t the half of it.

The front door closes with a soft click, and Jubilee sighs, a smile slipping onto her face as she starts to call out a hello over her shoulder. The words get stuck in her throat as she turns to face the customer, heart lurching into her throat when she meets hollow blue eyes she hasn’t seen in years.

The flowers in her hand slip to the floor.

“Jubilee Jones,” the woman says slowly, smiling with too much teeth. It’s almost a sneer, her eyes cold, and Jubilee’s hand immediately snaps to the knife tucked into her back pocket. Blue eyes flicker in amusement as she watches Jubilee stiffen, hand on her knife, a guarded look in her eyes. “It’s been a while.”

Gritting her teeth, Jubilee forces a polite smile onto her face, leaving the knife in her pocket. “Penny Peabody,” she greets in return, contempt lacing her name. Penny may be a snake, but Jubilee knows she’s faster. And more than that she’s a _Jones_. “I heard you were back in town.”

It’s been the talk of the Serpents lately, Penny’s return from Greendale. It’s been over a year since she was last seen in Riverdale, and while Jughead might have thought she was gone for good, Jubilee knew better. What Penny wants she gets, no matter the cost. And she’s always wanted the Serpents for herself.

It was quiet between the Serpents and Ghoulies while she was away, at least in Riverdale. Tensions between the two gangs have only risen in recent years, but there were a few months of relative peace with Penny not fueling the fires. The day she came back, two young Serpents ended up in the hospital as a warning.

Penny has always been bold, but not this bold. Not bold enough to come into neutral territory like this looking ready to pick a fight.

“I’ve been in Greendale,” Penny muses, humming to herself as she plucks a sprig of Blackthorn from a vase on the counter, the thin branch dotted with white flowers on the end. She runs a delicate finger along the edge of a petal. “We’ve had a lot of business there,” she continues, taunting her. “Though I’m sure you already knew that.” Penny smiles again, too bright. “How is Marcus by the way?” The question is dripping with sarcasm. “Last I saw he wasn’t looking too good. The rat.”

Jubilee steels her expression, refusing to give Penny the reaction she wants. “What do you want?”

Penny frowns when Jubilee doesn’t play the game. “I heard you and Sweet Pea were finally tying the knot,” she says suddenly, changing tactics, and this time Jubilee stiffens. “It’s about time really. You two have always been disgustingly inseparable.”

“Are you threatening me, Penny?” Jubilee asks her, eyes narrowing just a tick. Her grip tightens around the knife in her pocket.

Shaking her head, Penny twirls the Blackthorn in her hands. “Just offering my congratulations, Jones.” She sets the Blackthorn sprig on the counter, sliding it towards Jubilee. “And tell Sweet Pea congratulations, too, on being named the official future Serpent King.” Penny leans in close to her. “Long may you reign.”

 

 

 

“Don’t worry about Penny,” Sweet Pea tells her later, fingers weaving through her hair as he guides her onto her back, mouth on her neck. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.” It’s a promise whispered in her ear, but it doesn’t quell the sick feeling churning in her stomach. His fingers squeeze around her hip, lips leaving a burning trail down to her collarbones.

She sighs beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders when he sucks at the sensitive spot on her neck, leaving a trail off marks as he peruses her skin. Lips brush along her neck, soft and barely there, almost a ghost against her skin. A warm hand slips down her side, curling beneath her hips and dragging her closer and closer, until she’s pressed to Sweet Pea’s chest with no space left between them. He anchors himself to her, keeping her from spinning off somewhere he can’t follow, as if afraid she might disappear. His hands become desperate then, curling around Jubilee’s back, fingers digging into her skin almost too tightly as he presses against her, holding her to him.

Jubilee doesn’t tell him about the sprig of Blackthorn on the counter.

* * *

 

Jubilee squeals as icy fingers slip beneath her shirt and jacket, Sweet Pea’s chilly hands settling on her waist as he comes up behind her, pulling her flush against his chest. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek, arms snaking around her front, a smirk spreading across his lips as she shivers, leaning further into him. Huffing, she places her hands on his arms, trying not to shake as the wind tickles her abdomen where her shirt has ridden up. Sweet Pea’s lips trail across her cheek lightly, and she curls closer to him, stealing as much of his body heat as she can.

“You know,” she muses teasingly, dropping her head back against his shoulder to peek up at him as his lips leave her skin, “when I said we should go out sometime this isn’t what I meant.” Jubilee quirks a brow at him, gesturing with one hand to Picken’s Park, empty this late at night, a quiet snowfall drifting over the area.

When Sweet Pea pulled her out of bed earlier, telling her to get dressed in the middle of the night and practically pulling her out of the house, she wasn’t sure what to expect. He’s always been unpredictable, spontaneous, a little reckless, but she wouldn’t change that about him for the world. Him taking her to the park at quarter to midnight for a snowball fight was surprising, but appreciated nonetheless, even if her fingers are half-numb and her hair is starting to freeze.

Sweet Pea kisses behind her ear, rocking the two of them as he helps to shield her from the wind. “I thought midnight walks were supposed to be romantic?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he rests his cheek against her crown. His fingers drag against her side and she squirms, trying not to giggle as he prods at her ribs.

Jubilee shakes her head, feeling him smile against her in response. “Not in the middle of winter,” she corrects him, wrinkling her nose at the cold. His chest shakes with his laughter and he pinches her hip, making her yelp in surprise.

“You said you wanted to see the stars.”

Grinning, she twists around in his arms, pressing up on her toes to wrap her arms loosely around his neck. “Let’s go home?” she murmurs, kissing the underside of his chin and peeking up at him through her eyelashes, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “It’s cold.” He groans, pulling her closer, and she knows she’s won. He’s always been a sucker for her eyes.

One of his hands slides low on her back. “I can warm you up,” he jokes, giving her ass a cheeky squeeze. Jubilee gasps, hands sliding down his chest as she pushes him away, Sweet Pea laughing at the indignant look on her face, knowing it’s all for show.

“Save it for when we get home, Romeo,” Jubilee chastises, swatting at his shoulder playfully, shoulders shaking with laughter she tries to hold back.

She slips out of his arms, but doesn’t make it far before his hand curls around her wrist, Sweet Pea gently pulling her back to him. His arms wrap around her again, his forehead dropping down to rest against hers. Her hands find his face automatically, cold fingers stroking his cheeks. “Thank you for making me the happiest bastard in the world,” he whispers.

His lips seal over hers before she can say anything. One of Jubilee’s arms slinks around the back of his neck, dragging him down to her, the other cupping his cheek, the healing scar on her palm pressed against him. Sweet Pea exhales through his nose, practically sighing against her, mouth moving against hers with just enough pressure to make her head spin as he pulls her flush up against him, arms coiling around her back. Jubilee is surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and something earthy—something that rests heavy against her tongue. She tilts her chin, deepening the kiss and Sweet Pea leans into her, leaning her back as he kisses her harder.

“Well what do we have here?” an amused voice asks from behind her.

Sweet Pea’s mouth rips away from hers, head snapping up to look at someone over her head, hand pressed tight against her back as his entire body tenses. Jubilee follows his gaze, barely catching a glimpse of spiked-leather and smudged black and white face paint before Sweet Pea is shoving himself in front of her. “Stay behind me,” he hisses in her ear, blocking her with his shoulder.

“Sweet Pea!” The group of Ghoulies come closer, at least six of them, and Jubilee stiffens as she sees who’s in the lead. He grins when he catches her eye just to Sweet Pea’s right. “And Jubilee Jones.” He quirks a brow at them, expression almost reprimanding. “You two should know better than to be out here alone.”

“Ezekiel,” Sweet Pea returns, vice low and warning as he glances between the Ghoulies, straightening to his full height. But while Sweet Pea may be taller, he’s outnumbered, and even with Jubilee there, they can’t fight six pissed off Ghoulies by themselves, especially not with Ezekiel here. While Malachai may be leader of the Ghoulies, his younger brother has gained quite the reputation on the Southside over the years.

He’s violent, more so than Malachai ever was, a wicked temper and no remorse. Two Serpents ended up in the hospital last time they ran into Ezekiel, just a couple of kids, but that didn’t stop him. He looks ready for chaos, donning the Ghoulie war paint, a baseball bat slung over his shoulder loosely.

Cocking his head, Ezekiel glances between her and Sweet Pea, a smirk twisting at his mouth. “You’re a long way from the Wyrm.”

Jubilee squeezes Sweet Pea’s arm in warning as he opens his mouth again, knowing he’ll only make things worse. While Sweet Pea may be a someone the Serpents look to, he’s never been diplomatic, preferring his fists over his words. Slipping out from around him, Jubilee ignores the hiss of her name, stepping between Sweet Pea and Ezekiel. “We don’t want trouble,” she tells him simply, placating.

While volatile, he’s not a fool. Ezekiel knows better than to start something unprovoked. And especially not on Serpent territory. The park is eastside and they know it, if they start something here, it could be all out war.

Ezekiel’s gaze flicks from Sweet Pea to her, something wild and amused flickering in his eyes. “But I do.” Sweet Pea takes a step forward, arm reaching across her torso to grab her by the hip, pulling her tight to his side. Ezekiel’s eyes brighten at the motion, his back straightening. “Congratulations, by the way,” he continues suddenly, neither Jubilee nor Sweet Pea saying a word as the he takes a step towards them, the other Ghoulies lingering behind. “On the engagement, I mean.” The smile he sends them is unnerving. “You two have always been _very_ happy together.”

Bristling, Sweet Pea moves to take a step forward, but Jubilee grabs his arm, yanking him back to her. Her fingers lace through his, hoping to quell his temper, but it doesn’t keep the snarl out of his words. “Cut the bullshit,” he snaps. “What the fuck do you want, Ezekiel?”

He glances down at his hands, still grinning. “About two weeks back one of my boys went missing,” he informs them. “New initiate. Some punk from Greendale, but he was a damn good chemist.” Ezekiel huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. He turns back to Sweet Pea, smile dropping. “We just found his body outside Centerville.”

Jubilee stiffens and Sweet Pea swallows. Her nails dig into the back of his hand. “Must have been the Wolves.” He shrugs, arm slipping away from her and into the pocket of his jacket where she knows his brass knuckles are. “We don’t deal in Centerville anymore.”

“Bullshit,” Ezekiel suddenly roars at them and Jubilee flinches. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks them, a humorless laugh tumbling from his mouth. “One of my boys is _dead_ after fucking some Serpent whore. You think I don’t know what that means?” He takes a threatening step towards them but stops. Ezekiel turns his back on them, shaking his head and sighing, running a hand through his messy hair. He murmurs something, but Jubilee is too far away to hear.

He turns back around after a tense moment, expression stoic, resigned. “Now, you know I can’t let this go,” he tells them, slipping his bat from his shoulder. Sweet Pea tenses and Jubilee sucks in a sharp breath, neither moving. “And I like you, _both_ of you. But an opportunity like this?” He points with the bat, gesturing between them. “The Jones bitch and the next Serpent King? I can’t pass this up.”

The other Ghoulies have been shifting, restless, and when Ezekiel gestures with his arms they move. Several things happen at once.

Jubilee goes for the knife in her pocket; she’s grabbed from behind, hauled backwards; a hand latches around her wrist and squeezes; the knife drops from her grip; Sweet Pea starts to turn, reaching for her; the cold kiss of steel pricks at her neck.

Sweet Pea stills as the Ghoulie pulls her out of his reach, knife to her throat. “Jubilee,” he breathes out, a shaky sound.  The edge of the blade digs into her skin, drawing blood Jubilee struggles against the arm around her waist, trying to ignore the blood sliding down her skin, but the Ghoulie digs the blade in harder and she stills when Sweet Pea shoots her a pleading look, begging her not to move.

Sweet Pea takes a step back, glancing at Ezekiel. Slowly, he raises his hands, a slight tremble to his fingers. “Ezekiel,” he starts, shaking his head slowly, taking a step towards the man, eyes reluctantly leaving hers. His words are almost pleading, voice raw. “You don’t want to hurt her.”

Ezekiel sighs, shaking his head. “I think I do.”

Jubilee bristles, sneering at him, but doesn’t fight the Ghoulie behind her as the knife pricks at her skin.

Humming to himself, Ezekiel stares at her for a long moment, looking her up and down, gaze calculated. He has to know what killing the daughter of the Serpent King will do. He has to know that that would have repercussions even he can’t ignore. “How bout I make you a deal,” he says suddenly, gaze snapping back to Sweet Pea. “She gets on her knees, I let you both go.”

It’s an insult no matter what way he means it, sexually or making Serpent royalty kneel before him in a show of power, and it hits her right in the chest. Jubilee keeps her mouth shut though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Sweet Pea doesn’t take it as lightly, too easily provoked. She sees what’s going to happen before he moves, his body stiff, muscles tensing beneath his jacket.

“Sweets, don’t—” she starts, but he’s already moving, hand with the brass knuckles cracking across Ezekiel’s jaw, sending the Ghoulie stumbling. The bat slips from his hand.

It’s a hollow victory. Ghoulies lunge for him, too many too fast. They grapple and the weapon is ripped from Sweet Pea’s hand. A Ghoulie catches him above the eye, forcing Sweet Pea to his knees, blood dripping from split skin on his temple.

Sweet Pea sneers as Ezekiel rights himself, struggling against the Ghoulies holding him. Ezekiel stares down at him, shoulders shaking as he wipes blood from his mouth, grinning. He looks at the blood on his hand, chuckling, then swings at Sweet Pea.

Jubilee’s breath catches, a horrible crack splitting the air. Sweet Pea’s head snaps around. Blood gushes from his nose, down his mouth and chin. He winces, but turns back to Ezekiel defiantly, dark eyes alight with rage. Serpents don’t show cowardice.

Serpents aren’t supposed to stand alone. But it’s too late at night, just after midnight. Everyone is at the Wyrm or at home, half-drunk or asleep. There’s no one coming for them.

Ezekiel crouches in front of Sweet Pea, almost apologetic as he meets his eyes. “You have to understand,” he says, twisting the bat in his hand, heaving a sigh. “This isn’t personal. It’s just business.” He stands slowly, exhaling heavily through his nose. The park is too quiet, the snow silent as it falls around them. “We’re just here to send FP a little message.” The Ghoulie turns his back on Sweet Pea, grabbing his bat from the snow.

Jubilee’s chest constricts, blood running cold as he twirls the bat in his hand. “Ezekiel, please, don’t,” she begs, stomach filled with ice. “Don’t do this!”

Sweet Pea tries to smile for her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay, Jubilee,” he soothes her, voice so soft she almost can’t hear him. His voice cracks as he says her name, a broken sound. She shakes her head, throat tightening, acid in her throat. “It’s gonna be okay,” he repeats, louder than before.

The first time the bat connects with Sweet Pea’s head, Jubilee screams.

Ezekiel hits him again, harder, and blood sprays across the snow. The Ghoulies holding Sweet Pea let go, stumbling back. There’s blood on their hands, their faces, and Jubilee begs for it to stop, but it doesn’t. The bat connects over and over, each time harder, Ezekiel feeding on the chaos. He shouts something she can’t hear over the roar of blood in her ears.

A blow catches Sweet Pea across the chest and there’s a horrific snapping sound as his ribs crack. Jubilee wails, tears streaming down her face. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth. The knife is gone from her throat, but she doesn’t notice, unable to tear her eyes away from Sweet Pea.

He doesn’t scream, doesn’t beg for it to stop. Sweet Pea is quiet through it all. He tries to struggle to his feet more than once, still fighting. The Ghoulies shove him back down when he stands, hooting and laughing each time the bat connects with his head or chest or back.

It doesn’t stop until long after Sweet Pea has stopped moving, stopped trying to fight. Blood drips off the end of Ezekiel’s baseball bat as he finally steps away and the Ghoulies holding her up let go. Jubilee drops onto her knees, a sob ripping from her chest. She chokes on his name, the sound mangled and broken.

Ezekiel spits on him. “Hail to the King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been over a month in the making and I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with everyone! Interlude One will be posted next Thursday, and Part Two will be posted next Saturday. There will be five chapters total. Be sure to drop a comment and let me know your thoughts! Scream at me, let me know your favorite line, and feel free to ask questions!


	2. Interlude One

_{be still my foolish heart, don't ruin this on me}_

“How long were you and dad together before you gave him your heart?” Jubilee asks her mother as they’re sitting across from one another on the floor of the home she grew up in. The two of them are weaving wreaths of holly in preparation for the coming Hunter’s Moon, a tribute to the Old Gods. She tucks her legs beneath her, peeking up at her mother over the dark leaves in her lap.

Gladys hums, not taking her eyes off her own wreath. “Not until I left for Toledo,” she answers eventually, a fond smile curling at her lips. “He never really believed in the old legends. Not until after you and your brother were born.” Jubilee nods, fiddling with a group of red berries, rolling them between her fingers as her mother continues. “Even then I don’t think he quite understood them, but he tried. I thought he would cry when I gave him the bauble.”

Jubilee grins. “You’ve never talked about it.” Gladys has always been careful with what she’s told her children about the pagans in Riverdale and the old myths surrounding them. There was a time when the town was bloodier, darker, a shadow creeping through the hearts of those who lived there. The old traditions can be violent, unhinged, but painfully beautiful. It wasn’t until Jubilee was older that Gladys began teaching her the old ways, giving her a choice.

There’s something savage and sweet about the Old Religion, something bloody and raw but so, so _alive_. It’s primal, carnal and sensual, of the flesh, and also mystical. There’s power in the old ways.

“Not much to talk about.” Gladys waves her off, glancing up from her wreath. “Jubilee, why are you asking me about…” she trails off as suddenly as she starts, hazel eyes going wide as she stares at her daughter. The wreath is placed gently onto her lap, a look of wonder in her eyes. “You’re going to give up your heart,” Gladys murmurs, and there’s something disapproving there, because Jubilee is young and wild and reckless, and the heart is a fragile, foolish thing.

And for a worshiper of the Old Gods the heart is sacred. Once given it can never be taken back. A promise of forever.

Jubilee only smiles back at her mother. “It’s already his,” she tells her, eyes alight with joy. “Maybe it always has been.” She can’t remember a time when she didn’t love Sweet Pea. He’s always been there, at her side through it all, making her feel absolutely weightless and grounding her all at once. Giving him her heart was never meant to be a choice, only a gentle, inevitable thing.

It’s always been him, even when she didn’t know it. Even when she was too afraid to say it.

Gladys stares at her for a long moment, expression softening as she sees something in Jubilee that she can’t put a name to. “He could break it,” she warns her daughter, but there’s no bite to her tone. It’s little more than a gentle reminder, a caveat. She has to keep her heart safe.

“He won’t,” Jubilee promises, knowing it’s protected with him. Always.  

“How do you know?”

“It’s Sweet Pea,” she says, like it’s that simple, and maybe it is. Because if she can’t trust her heart with him, she can’t trust it with anyone. Because she knows he would never hurt her.  

 

 

 

The Hunter’s Moon celebration comes and goes, and October bleeds into November, Sweet Pea’s upcoming birthday leaving her jittery, excited and a little nervous. She’s kept her heart in a box in their dresser, carefully tucked away in the corner where he wouldn’t look. There’s a kind of heaviness that’s settled in her chest, a longing ache that she isn’t sure how to quell. It dims at night, with his arms coiled around her and his heartbeat thrumming against her ear, and she isn’t sure if that ache is something missing inside her or if her heart is swollen in her chest and ready to burst.

He makes her feel so very alive, even more so than the longing in her for Fox Forest.

Sweet Pea comes home late the morning of his birthday, just after two, exhausted from a run to Centerville with Fangs and Joaquin, and finds her nestled into the couch, wrapped up in one of his old sweaters and waiting for him, flicking through the pages of a book she’s read a dozen times. A calmness washes over them both as their eyes connect, a beautiful smile breaking out across her face as he kicks off his shoes and crosses the room to her. Jubilee giggles as he scoops her into his arms, lips on her jaw and cheek and chin, wherever he can reach as her arms wrap around him in return.

Her book drops onto the couch, legs winding tight around his waist as he lifts her up. Jubilee’s fingers run through his hair, gently tugging him down as her lips find his, meeting him in a sweet kiss that makes them both sigh.

She doesn’t say a word as his hands hook beneath her bare thighs, Sweet Pea carrying her towards their room with practiced easy and kicking the door shut behind them. His lips trail along her jaw, finding the sweet spot that makes her melt against him. Sweet Pea drops down onto their bed, holding her over his lap, hands running along her sides beneath her sweater, wanting to feel her against him.

Jubilee pulls away from him slowly, fingers curling around his wrists and pulling his greedy hands from her skin. He stares up at her, dark eyes searching hers and Sweet Pea relaxes when he sees nothing but love in her eyes. “I have something for you,” she whispers against him, sliding from his lap without a word.

He groans low in his throat as she leaves him warm and wanting, walking backwards to the dresser against the wall. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Baby,” he murmurs, fondness swelling in his chest as she pulls a small box from one of the drawers.

She returns to him quickly, settling back over his lap, his big hands coming to rest on her hips, squeezing gently, lazy fingers drawing circles against her thighs, pulling her closer. Jubilee holds the box out to him, silver exterior glinting faintly in the low lighting. “Open it.”

Gingerly, he takes the box from her hands. It’s light to the touch, and his big fingers fumble with the ribbon curled around it holding the top on securely. She giggles as he struggles, and he shoots her an annoyed look that’s soothed by her lips pressing to his in a fleeting kiss that leaves him breathless.

Finally, he manages to work the box open, soft tissue paper covering the object within. Sweet Pea moves it aside, a frown settling onto his mouth when he sees a small, glass sphere nestled into the box. It’s a tiny thing, pale and silver like the box, and he cradles it in his palm. The glass bauble looks fragile against the calluses on his skin, smooth and partially transparent, so breakable that it scares him.

“Jubilee?” he murmurs, confused. Because it’s breakable, beautiful, delicate, the glass tinted silver with tiny, green vines swirling along the sides in sweeping curves. His eyes narrow, peering closer, and there’s a coiled knot of twine inside the globe. His heart seizes when he sees it, and the bauble nearly slips from his fingers when the realization wracks through him, griping him like a vice.

He knows the stories, from her, from his mother, from the whispers of the other pagans in Riverdale. How pagans give their souls, their beating hearts to their lovers to keep safe. He knows weight that carries, how much it means to her to do this, to trust him like this. Sweet Pea’s throat goes tight, fondness swelling in his chest as his eyes snap up to meet hers.

“Jubilee,” he whispers again, a breathy sound leaving him. His mouth moves, but nothing else escapes him, the words sticking in his throat as he cradles the bauble close to him.

Jubilee brings his free hand to her lips, kissing his fingers and then his palm and he cups her cheek, thumb smoothing across her soft skin. She leans into him, tears welling in her eyes at the raw emotion splayed across his face, Sweet Pea so vulnerable it makes her chest ache. “It’s yours now,” she tells him, breath sweet against his lips. She leans in, pressing her forehead against his. Sweet Pea’s hand slides from her cheek around her back, pulling her tighter against his chest. Her hands cradle his strong jaw, a shuddering breath fanning over his lips. “It’s always been yours.” Her heart has belonged to Sweet Pea longer than it was ever her own.

He releases a quivering exhale, palm flush against her back, eyes slipping shut as her fingers stroke down his cheeks. “What if I break it?”

Jubilee shakes her head, pressing herself tight against his torso, no space left between them. “You won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a change in my posting schedule! From now on, updates will only be on Thursdays! Apologies for this!


	3. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist can be found at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2zYQDvZGYpW6b24nKFORh0
> 
> Also! Natalia Barros and Lydia Boyd belong to @southsidewrites here on AO3 and tumblr! She makes fab OCs and everyone should go check her out!

_{come back: even as a shadow, even as a dream}_

There’s blood on her. On her hands, the ring on her finger, covering the front of her shirt and sticking to her skin. It’s soaked into the snow, almost black in the darkness, barely illuminated by the flashing blue and red lights casting a bright glow over the park. Something heavy and warm is wrapped around her shoulders, but she doesn’t react, numb to the people moving around her and the body sprawled across the snow.

Fingers curl around the leather of his jacket. He’s cold. Her lips form his name, but all that leaves her is a fragile and broken wheeze.

Jubilee is dead weight as a firm grip curls around her upper arm, hoisting her up, hands pulling her from the snow. She goes along willingly, worn leather slipping from between her fingers. Her legs tremble as she’s forced to stand, and suddenly she’s airborne, jostled as an arm slips beneath her knees.

Her head lolls against a shoulder, but her eyes don’t leave him, even as she’s carried to a car, a hand on her head trying to block her from looking—from having to see the unrecognizable mess of blood and leather crumpled into a heap in the snow. Jubilee looks anyway.

She knows that he’s gone even before the sheet covers his face.

 

 

 

There’s still blood on her. On her clothes, beneath her fingernails, staining the delicate knotting etched into her ring, so deep she doesn’t think it will ever come out. Jubilee stares down at the dry, flaking stains on the silver, darker now than they were before. She tries not to think of it, warm under her fingers as she tried to staunch the bleeding, but it was too much, too many broken bones, and by the time she crawled to him she couldn’t be sure he was even breathing anymore.

Her ears ring, a high whine like white noise, and she barely reacts as she’s pushed and pulled, passed from one to the next and shoved into a hard, plastic chair that digs into her spine. She sits there for a long time, just staring at her hands, rubbed raw to remove the blood half-frozen to her fingers.

The ringing in her ears only grows louder as she’s left to herself, the hallway milling with people.

“Jubilee.” Her head snaps up as sound returns, the roaring in her ears dulling to nothing as a weight settles on her knee. Her wild gaze shifts, meeting familiar, concerned eyes. Tom Keller crouches before her, gaze leveling with hers, and Jubilee’s eyes follow him slowly, watching but not seeing. “Hey there, Kid,” he says, even though she’s twenty-three and he’s known her all his life. The concern in his eyes is palpable, thick and honest, and it chokes her, smoke in her lungs.

She curls up tighter in the chair, a slow, shaky breath slipping from her lips. “Sheriff Keller,” she murmurs back, honey-colored eyes searching his for something, anything, and there’s an apology there that makes her eyes start to burn once again. Her hands tremble as she wraps her arms around herself, nails digging into the blanket draped around her shoulders.

Sheriff Keller’s hand moves from her knee to her shoulder, holding her steady as she begins to shake, her gaze going watery as she turns back to her hands and the blood still stuck beneath her fingernails, bright against her pale skin.

“You’re okay,” Keller tells her, low and even, practiced, and she wonders how many times he’s done this before. “Look at me.” He squeezes her shoulder and her gaze snaps back to his, Jubilee unaware that she was wandering. “You’re okay,” he repeats.

Her lips quiver as she takes a deep breath. “Sweet Pea,” she manages to choke out, his name practically a whimper. The sob that rips straight from her chest leaves her feeling hollow inside, something missing.

* * *

 

“I know this is hard,” he starts slowly sympathetic, “but is there anything you can tell me about what happened tonight?” The questions makes her stomach flip, bile rising in her throat, but she swallows it back, a shiver wracking her body. “Anything at all?”

“I don’t…” She wants to say she doesn’t remember, that it all happened so fast, but that’s not true. She remembers too much. The crunch of the snow beneath her knees, the sick squelching sound each time Ezekiel hit him, the smell of cigarette smoke in the air. She remembers the smile Sweet Pea tried to send her, the look in his eyes, his mouth on hers just minutes earlier, whispering that he’s the  _happiest bastard in the world_.

Jubilee wishes she could forget, that she could close her eyes and wake up and he’d be right there, snoring beside her and stealing all of the blankets.

She’s quiet for too long, gaze far away, and Sheriff Keller frowns, sighing as he nudges her shoulder again to gain her attention, trying to keep her focused on him. “Jubilee,” he snaps at her gently, voice rising just a tick, but it’s enough to make her jump. The Ghoulies’ cackling still ringing in her ears.

Exhaling shakily through her nose, Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks. “They came out of nowhere,” she tells his, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear her. “We were just…” Jubilee opens her eyes again, shaking her head as a broken noise slips from her mouth. “We weren’t supposed to be there. We were going to go home.” Something caught between a sob and a bitter laugh tears from her. “We were supposed to go home,” Jubilee repeats, softer than before.

They never should have gone out that night. They should have never seen the stars.

The numbness washes away in a great wave, and it all hits her at once. He’s  _dead_. Sweet Pea is dead. He’s not coming home tonight. Something snaps inside her, a damn breaking, and when she starts to sob, great heaving sounds, her entire body quivering, she’s not sure how to make it stop.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he keeps repeating, hushing her, but it’s a lie and they both know it. Because it’s not okay. None of this is  _okay_. And Jubilee can barely force herself to breathe even as Sheriff Keller tells her too, voice low in her ear, hands rubbing up and down her arms, stiff and half-frozen. “I know this is hard,” he continues, “but if there’s anything you can tell me to help me find who did this…”

“I—” She chokes off, shaking her head before burying her face in her hands. The blanket slips from around her shoulders, pooling at her waist.

Sheriff Keller doesn’t miss a beat. “Did you recognize any of them?”

Jubilee’s breath catches. Her throat constricts even tighter. She thinks of the malice in Ezekiel’s eyes, the pragmatic tone in his voice, the justification.  _An opportunity like this_ , he called them. Something he couldn’t pass up, like their lives were nothing more than a small victory in the ongoing war between the Serpents and Ghoulies. Wrong place. Wrong time. And he just wouldn’t stop—he wouldn’t stop  _hitting_  him, even when she begged him too. Even if it made her a coward, she would have done anything to make him  _stop_.

Her hands drop into her lap, eyes locking with Sheriff Keller’s, Ezekiel’s name on the tip of her tongue—

There’s a commotion down the hallway, shouting, and her gaze drifts to the side, away from Keller’s. He follows her gaze, squeezing her shoulder, and they watch as FP Jones shoulders his way into the station, shoving away the hands of a deputy trying to hold him back, a wild look in his eyes. Jughead is close behind him and he catches sight of her before FP, blue eyes wide in horror as he sees her there, curled up in a chair looking smaller than he’s ever seen her before, bloodstains on her clothes, her eyes rimmed in red. Jughead grabs FP’s arm, mouth moving rapidly, and whatever he says must catch their father’s attention because FP’s gaze snaps to her, softening from a hostile rage.

Sighing, the Sheriff turns back to her, expression imploring, and her expression goes steely, eyes still on her family hurrying towards her, leather jackets standing out against the off-white walls of the station, the angry snake on their backs a warning to everyone in the room.

Sheriff Keller’s justice isn’t the kind she wants.

“Jubilee,” Jughead murmurs as he reaches her side, immediately engulfing her in a hug that’s practically suffocating as Sheriff Keller rises and steps to the side, guiding FP a few feet away to talk. Her name is tinged with relief and Jughead’s arms squeeze around her like a vice. She collapses into him, allowing him to be the only thing holding her steady, keeping her together. Fingers clenching in the leather on his back, Jubilee buries her face against his chest, entire body wracking with a sudden sob that’s barely muffled by his jacket. He only grips her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head as he holds her to his chest.

Jughead doesn’t say anything else, only rocks the two of them as she sobs, the adrenaline gone and exhaustion settling in its place.

“I want to go home, Jug,” Jubilee whispers, trembling. “Please, take me home.”

* * *

 

Something cold has settled into her bones, an iciness creeping down her spine since they left the Sheriff Station, the dull ache of exhaustion making her feel heavy, a weight on her chest and on her shoulders. Her head throbs and her eyes itch, blood-shot and puffy.  Jubilee curls up tighter on the old pull-out couch in her father’s house, the same one that’s been there for as long as she can remember, with frayed edges and cigarette burns.

Her fingers pluck at a loose thread in the fabric absentmindedly, nails wiggling the strand further and further free, like she wants the whole thing to unravel around her. And maybe she does. Jubilee’s eyes slip shut, her head dropping sideways onto the back of the couch, a slow exhale falling heavy from her chest. Her toes dig into the cushion beneath her, cold and bare, the rough tweed scratching against her skin and making it crawl.

She thinks someone might have tried speaking to her, a low voice murmuring from somewhere in the room, but she ignored it, the words slipping around her like water, nothing but a dull hum in her ears. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since. Hours. Maybe less. Hard to tell with February’s pervasive darkness, the night all-encompassing.

Jughead and FP keep checking in on her, briefly, just to make sure she’s still curled into the couch and trying to make herself small. She hasn’t moved though, save for the twitch of her fingers and the slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest, so slight it would be easy to miss. They don’t try to talk to her, not anymore, not when they know she won’t answer them, lost somewhere inside her head they can’t quite get to. Their voices are a low hush in the other room, harsh whispers being passed between the pair of them, quiet enough for her to ignore the words but not the tone, the two of them spitting at each other, and then something softer, sadder with no replies.

FP curses from the other room, a loud  _fuck_  and the sound of smashing glass ringing sharply through the trailer. Jughead flinches, but Jubilee doesn’t.

The silence settles in after that, like a thick smog, choking them all as it curls through their lungs.

 

 

 

FP calls a council. It’s the only thing he can do. A few of the older Serpents filter into the trailer, solemn with a restless fury about them, a snake in still waters. They try to keep their voices down as they speak, but it’s not easy in such a small space, their voices carrying. People Jubilee has known her entire life look at her with pity in their eyes, like she’s some  _broken_  thing, and she just goes back to staring at the wall, refusing to return the looks.

The life of a Serpent is hard, the men more than likely to end up dead or detained, rotting away in some cell while their families are left behind. It’s why her mom left, why so many marriages on the Southside end in divorce. No one wants to see their partner behind bars or rushed away in a body bag.

Jubilee never expected it to happen to—

She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut tightly. An arm curls tightly around her, leather and motor oil making her choke. Fangs’ grip around her only tightens, Jubilee half in his lap as he strokes her hair, whispering nonsense into her ear as she trembles, voice hoarse as he stumbles over the words. He arrived with Toni and Joaquin not long before the other Serpents, all bursting into the trailer, frantic gazes searching the room, almost like they didn’t quite believe it until they saw Jubilee, small and shivering on the couch.

Toni and Fangs immediately settled on the couch on either side of her when they saw her like that, almost protective in the way they curled around her, Toni’s grip on her desperate and Fangs’ hands shaking, like he wasn’t sure where to put them before grabbing both her and Toni into a bone crushing embrace, even as he shook right along with them, rocking them both. Joaquin lingered near the door, swaying slightly on his feet as it hit him, and he swore under his breath as Jughead came to stand beside him, the two not saying a word.

The older Serpents surrounding FP grow louder, angrier, and she stiffens, fingers squeezing around Toni’s. Each voice makes the sick twisting in her stomach grow worse, a churning in her gut threatening to spill out.

“What did the cops—”

“—couldn’t even recognize him.”

“What did they—”

“—baseball bat—”

“—beaten that badly?”

“Ghoulies.”

Fangs soothes her as a soft whine slips from the back of her throat. It goes unnoticed to the other Serpents, the small sound swallowed up as their voices grow with anger, a cacophony of sound swelling in the room with nowhere else to go, threatening to burst.

“How the fuck did this happen?” one of them snaps, not bothering to keep his voice down. Toni’s nails dig into the back of her hand. A slow, shaking breath leaves Fangs, and Jubilee tries to ignore the wetness sliding down her skin from where his cheek is pressed against the crown of her head. His hand smooths up her back to cradle the back of her neck, keeping her tucked against his chest protectively.

FP sighs, running a hand through his unkempt hair, a frustrated sound pulling from the back of his throat. “I don’t know,” he finally tells them, the other Serpents quieting at the sharpness in his tone. “Police don’t know anything yet. Keller said it’s too soon.”

The group goes quiet, the four men falling into silence. It’s only then that Jubilee is able to put names to them, her eyes opening just long enough to catch a small glimpse of the men standing against the far wall, her father’s back to her. Jubilee recognizes Hog Eye first, the bartender rubbing at the scruff on his face in thought, a nervous tick that she’s come to recognize in all the years she’s known him. Dutch and Hawk are on either side of him, friends of her father’s for longer than Jubilee has been alive and Serpents for just as long.

Hawk heaves a sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he glances at Jubilee over FP’s shoulder, staring for a long second before nodding in her direction. “Have you asked…” he trails off before finishing, a grim look on his face.

Joaquin and Jughead both stiffen where they rest against the wall, listening to the older men talk, but not participating themselves, and Fangs’ hand stills on the back of her head, his entire body going rigid. Toni’s nails did harder into the back of her hand before suddenly going slack.

FP’s shoulders go stiff, his back straightening, muscles tensing beneath his jacket. He doesn’t say a word, back still to Jubilee as the other three men begin to speak again.

“You want to ask  _her_?” Dutch whispers, a harsh note to the words. His gaze flicks to Jubilee for only a moment, taking in her still frame squeezed between Fangs and Toni. He turns back to Hawk just as quickly, sheer disbelief in his eyes.

Hog Eye shakes his head, exhaling lowly, and Hawk’s jaw clenches tightly, his hands curling into tight fists. “We don’t have much of a choice,” he reminds the other men, defensive but apologetic.

For a long moment, nothing happens. The three Serpents turn to FP expectantly, waiting for an answer, waiting for him to take the lead. Joaquin leans further against the wall, crossing his arms, a muscle in his jaw popping as he grits his teeth. Beside him, Jughead runs a hand through his dark hair, beanie long since been tossed aside. He pushes off the wall, taking a step towards the Serpent King. “Dad,” he murmurs, shaking his head. The implication is clear. Not now. Not like this.

But FP sighs, eyes squeezing shut tightly, and he only hesitates a moment before turning his back on the other Serpents, footsteps heavy as he crosses the room, crouching when he reaches the couch. Fangs catches his gaze briefly, eyes red-rimmed from crying, traces of anger lingering in his russet eyes, and FP has to look away, clearing his throat harshly.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, placing a hand on Jubilee’s knee, giving her a soft squeeze. Her gaze slides to his hesitantly, her honey eyes weary and reluctant, but she looks at him anyway, eyes glossy though she doesn’t cry. FP’s shoulders slump, the life seeming to leave him as he looks up at his daughter.

Jubilee’s eyes slip shut briefly, her shoulders slumping before they open again, locking on his. She seems to wake up as she looks at him, some of the stillness slipping away. “Dad,” she murmurs back, the first thing she’s said in what must be hours, since they left the Sheriff’s Station. Her voice breaks, cracking on the single word, and he winces, something like shame in his eyes.

He exhales slowly through his nose, one hand rubbing at his jaw. “You gotta tell me what happened, Jubilee,” he says slowly, fingers squeezing around her knee again, almost placating. She inhales sharply, shaking her head as she tenses, curling closer in on herself. Her throat goes tight, her eyes squeezing shut. “Hey,” he continues, “I know this is hard, but we have to know.”

“I—” she starts, choking off just as quickly and shifting away from his touch. She doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to say it out loud, because that makes it real. And more than anything, she just wants to wake up.

“Jubilee—” he tries again.

Joaquin cuts him off, shoving away from the wall to take a step towards the pair of them. “FP,” he starts, suddenly loud in the quiet of the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “Leave her alone.” There’s something in his tone that’s almost a warning, low and rough, and the Serpent King straightens, body tensing as he stands from his crouched position by Jubilee’s side.

“You think we have time for this, Joaquin?” he asks, exasperated as he stares at the younger Serpent. He clenches his jaw, rage flashing in his eyes, but Joaquin only glares back at him.

Shaking his head, Joaquin nods over FP’s shoulder to Jubilee. “This isn’t going to help,” he says quietly, ton low. “Not right now. Not when she’s like this.” Joaquin has always been close to Jubilee, friends even before she was truly part of the gang, keeping an eye on her, keeping her out of trouble. He’s as much of a brother to her as Jughead.

FP only sighs, a short, bitter bark of a laugh escaping him as the tension in the room rises, everyone on edge, uneasy as the Serpent King’s eyes narrow dangerously. “We need to know.”

“It can wait,” Joaquin argues back.

“Sweet Pea is  _dead_!” FP snaps suddenly, the entire room flinching with the reminder, the first time any of them have said it aloud. A hush follows the affirmation. The older Serpents go silent, gazes dropping to the ground. Jughead winces and Joaquin takes a step back. A choked sob slips from between Toni’s lips. Fangs physically flinches away from FP, taking Jubilee with him. But she doesn’t move. “He’s dead,” FP repeats, softer this time. “It’s not going to get any easier until we know.”

“Ezekiel.” FP and Joaquin both turn, looking down at Jubilee in surprise. Her shoulders slump, entire body going slack as she leans further into Fangs, exhaustion weighing down on her body. Toni reaches for her again, their fingers lacing together. Jubilee sighs, eyes slipping shut for a moment. “It was Ezekiel,” she tells them again.

Her statements hangs heavy in the air, none of the other Serpents making a sound.

It’s Hawk who speaks up first. “Malachai’s brother?” he asks, a slight sneer to the question.

Dutch swears under his breath and looks away, his eyes squeezing shut, hands trembling.

“What the hell happened?” Hog Eye asks her, a softness to the question she’s never heard from him before.

Jubilee sighs, staring down as her hand laced with Toni’s. The other girl hiccups softly, tears streaking down her face, and Jubilee winces. “We were at the park,” she says, a pit forming in her stomach. “We didn’t—” she chokes off, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. “The Ghoulies came out of nowhere.”

FP stares down at her, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “How many?”

“Six. Seven.” Jubilee shrugs, resting her head back against Fang’s shoulder, her free hand finding his and squeezing. “Too many.” She wets her lips, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thinks back to what happened earlier in the night, about everything he told them. She sniffs. “Ezekiel said one of his boys went missing after ‘fucking some Serpent whore,’ ” Jubilee repeats. Fangs tenses behind her and Toni flinches, at the insult or implication she doesn’t know. Jubilee continues before any of them can say anything. “They found his body outside of Centerville,” her red eyes cut to FP, “but I’m guessing you already know about that.”

Nothing happens on the Southside without the Serpent King finding out.

FP winces, something like an apology flashing in his eyes.

“What is she talking about?” Jughead turns to his father, paling as the words register, the meaning clear. He shoves away from the wall, crossing the room quickly, stopping just before reaching his father. “What the hell did you do?” The Serpents have a code. They don’t kill people, not unless they deserve it, not unless they need to. Any slight against the Ghoulies would only lead to retaliation and more blood. More violence.

“It was business,” is all FP tells them, hand raking through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. “God  _dammit_.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dutch murmurs.

Behind her, Fangs shifts. “What are we going to do?” Jubilee glances at him over her shoulder. Fangs swallows, a shaky sound leaving him as he looks up, tears still running down his face. “FP, what are we going to do?”

He only shakes his head.

 

 

 

“Did he kill that Ghoulie?” Jubilee asks FP after the older Serpents have gone and the others have fallen asleep, grief leaving them hollow and exhausted.

Jughead looks up at them from his spot at the counter, eyes bloodshot. He hasn’t cried. Jubilee doesn’t think he’ll let himself. He and Sweet Pea were never quite friends, not exactly. They tolerated each other, respected each other, but aside from the Serpents and Jubilee they never had much in common.

She turns to face her father more directly, in shadow as the first rays of light spill through the crack in the blinds. “Did Sweets kill him?” FP doesn’t answer, just sighs and sends her a look she can’t quite read. Jughead turns back to his hands and Jubilee closes her eyes, heart aching in her chest.

* * *

 

Time moves slowly over the next few days, a crawl, everything hazy. Jubilee meets with Mei Hua to discuss funeral arraignments, even though they won’t bury him until spring. Her stomach flips at the thought of him frozen away in some box until the earth is warm again, spring chasing away the chill of winter with new life. They’re strangely numb as they talk about it, like it hasn’t quite hit them yet that he’s gone. That he’s not coming back.

There’s a hollow feeling in her chest, a quiet bitterness settling in place of where her heart is supposed to be. Jubilee keeps going through the motions of waking up, heart sinking further in her chest each time she realizes it isn’t just a bad dream.

It’s two days after that night in the park when she finally pulls herself out of bed, half-awake and still groggy in the haziness of the morning. And she forgets. Jubilee forgets until she goes to take a drink and her coffee mug is empty. She forgets until she doesn’t feel his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest as his grinning mouth presses to her temple.

A cold hand wraps around her heart and squeezes, choking her.

The mug splinters into pieces when it hits the wall.

 

 

 

Jubilee runs a frustrated hand through her dark hair, trying to keep her fingers from shaking as she hurries through the trailer park, jacket pulled tight around her frame and scarf practically suffocating her. Her throat feels tight and her eyes burn, but she blames it on the wind. The snow crunches beneath her boots.

Stiffening, Jubilee comes to a halt when she sees someone standing in her doorway, huddled against the wind. The coiled snake on the back of their leather jacket makes her inhale sharply, heart hurting, but she ignores the sting, steeling herself. Jubilee forces herself to move, crossing the short distance to her door, feet dragging. The figure looks up as she comes closer, raising a hand in greeting, and she frowns at the familiar face, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment.

He doesn’t say a word as she walks up the steps of the porch, and Jubilee doesn’t look at him, fighting back the tightening in her throat. “What are you doing here, Joaquin?” she asks him, fishing her keys out of her pocket, fingers numb. She never used to lock the door. Most people know better than to break into a Serpent’s home right in the middle of their territory, but now that she’s alone…

Joaquin watches as she struggles with the keys, but stays quiet for a long moment, pulling his leather jacket tighter around his shoulders, eyes drifting from her to the sheet covered motorcycle sitting in the yard, untouched since the weather became bad. He clears his throat, turning back to her as she finally gets the door unlocked. “I thought I’d come see how you were doing. I was in the neighborhood.” It’s a half-joke, but the concern is still there, and her shoulders stiffen.

“Did my dad send you?” Jubilee glances up at him, hoping the bitterness hasn’t seeped into her tone. It wouldn’t be unlike him to send one of his boys around to check on her. She’s seen Isaac and Dexy hanging around recently, keeping an eye on her, as if she doesn’t notice them there. Joaquin’s gaze avoids hers and Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, sighing before shoving the door open. “Come on,” she mumbles to him, leaving the door open behind her as she steps inside.

Joaquin follows after her, shutting the door gently behind him. Jubilee slips off her shoes, moving further into the house, and Joaquin follows her with his eyes, the weight of them heavy on her back as he tries to gauge her reactions. He follows her slowly, hovering just outside of the kitchen and frowning as she pulls two glasses and a bottle of scotch from one of the cabinets. “How are you feeling?” he asks her slowly, eyes narrowing at the bottle in her hands.

Jubilee scoffs, a short, bitter laugh slipping past her lips as she pours two shots. “Two days ago I was planning my wedding and now I’m planning a funeral,” she remarks casually, setting the scotch down a little too hard. “How the  _fuck_  do you think I’m feeling?” It’s unfair, her snapping at Joaquin like that, and she regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth, but she’s so sick of people asking how she is when she can’t even  _breathe_  without the ache in her chest getting worse, bigger, like it might just swallow her up. She sighs, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t,” Joaquin cuts her off, shaking his head as he steps further into the kitchen. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Shaking her head, Jubilee places her hands on the countertop, eyes apologetic. “Joaquin,” she tries again, but stops when he sends her a look. They’ve been friends for long enough to let things slide. She shuts her mouth, settling her elbows against the counter and taking one of the glasses, swirling the scotch absentmindedly as her eyes slip shut, Jubilee trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on the side of her face.

He stares at her for a moment longer, letting the silence overtake them for a handful of heavy seconds, watching as she lifts her glass but doesn’t take a drink. Jubilee suddenly looks exhausted as she leans against the counter, running her free hand through her tangled hair. Joaquin wets his lips. “You’ve been crying,” he states, not bothering with edging around the topic.

She sighs at the observation, wishing her eyes weren’t so red. “Yeah.”

“What happened?” he asks, lifting the glass of scotch she slides to him from across the counter.

Jubilee lets out a short laugh, no humor to it and sniffs as she stares down at her glass. “Mei Hua and I,” she starts, swallowing down the lump in her throat, “we had that meeting with the funeral director this morning.” Joaquin places his glass back on the counter, realization flickering in his eyes. She smiles bitterly, eyes growing glossy. “They recommended a closed casket,” she tells him softly, shaky voice barely a whisper.

Joaquin winces. “Fuck.” He rubs his hand down the side of his face, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression turns sympathetic as he looks at her, tears welling in her eyes. “Jubilee, I—”

“I knew,” she tells him, another breathy laugh slipping from her lips before she smiles at him, a sad, broken little thing. “I knew how bad it was. I just thought…” Jubilee shakes her head, not bothering to stop the tears spilling over. She doesn’t know what she thought. Maybe she was only hoping for a miracle. That maybe the last time she saw him wouldn’t be that night. She sucks in a sharp breath, turning back to Joaquin. “That’s not how I want to remember him, you know?”

“Then don’t,” Joaquin tells her, reaching across the counter to grasp her hand, giving her a gentle squeeze. Jubilee frowns back at him. “Just remember how much he loves you,” she winces at the present tense, flinching away from him, but he holds on tight, “remember how happy he was when you said yes to marrying him.” He huffs out a laugh. “God, he couldn’t shut up about it. I’ve never seen him as happy as he was that day at the bar.”

Jubilee traces the rim of her glass, eyes slipping shut. “I just want this to be over,” she tells him, downing the scotch.

* * *

 

There’s a vase of sweet peas at the front of the room, two-dozen of them, pale pink and twined together with baby’s breath and forget-me-nots, the petals soft as they spill over the rim of the dark vase. There’s something poetic about it, a deep bitter irony that makes her stomach twist sickly the longer she stares at the flowers.

Sweet peas and baby’s breath are what they would have had at their wedding, a kind of joke between them, because he always used to bring her sweet peas on their anniversary.

Her throat tightens the longer she looks at the flowers and Jubilee forces herself to look away, gaze sliding to the framed picture of him resting beside the table, but that only makes the burning in the back of her eyes grow worse. It’s a good picture, one Toni took where he’s smiling a big genuine smile, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes, so different from the permanent scowl he wore when they were younger. He’s staring over his right shoulder, the inky lines of his Serpent tattoo on display, the light around him making everything soft, something ethereal about him.

She remembers when Toni snapped that picture last fall. They’d gone camping, the three of them, with Fangs and Joaquin and Toni’s girlfriend, Natalia. It was spur of the moment, the thrill of the Harvest Moon in their veins as they ventured into Fox Forest. It was morning, just after sunrise, and they were listening to Fangs tell some story she can’t quite remember as they hiked along the rocky quarry leading down to Crystal Lake. Jubilee said something, a joke mocking Fangs, and Sweet Pea turned to her with that smile, his entire face lit up with absolute joy.

It was only luck that Toni got the picture. She was ahead of them with Natalia and Joaquin, waiting for the rest of them to catch up, but she caught the picture anyway, and it’s always been Jubilee’s favorite.

Now she wishes she hadn’t picked it.

Her eyes follow the familial lines of his face, mapping his features, wishing she could remember him like that, smiling. None of the fear or the blood from that night.

A cold numbness settles somewhere in her chest and she has to look away from the picture, eyes squeezing shut tightly as friends and family and people she hardly knows mingle around her, dressed in black and speaking in hushed voices.

Jubilee doesn’t look at the closed casket to her right.

Her head hurts. A dull pain spreading from behind her eyes through the rest of her head until her entire body aches with it. They’ve been worse than usual lately, her headaches. From the constant crying or maybe because Sweet Pea isn’t there with his hand on the back of her neck, whispering sweet things in her ear as he kneads at her skin, chasing the pain away. She can feel him there on her neck, breath hot on her skin, a memory or a ghost.

More than anything else, Jubilee is tired. Tired of people smiling at her and telling her things will be okay, that they understand how hard all of this must be for her. She’s sick of people touching her, hands on her shoulder or elbow, as if she might break if they don’t hold her together.

She’d rather they just let her fall apart.

Someone comes up beside her, as she turns back to the flowers, gaze far away. For a long moment, they don’t say a word, merely stand there, staring at the sweet peas and shifting their weight from one hip to the other, restless. The room is claustrophobic, too many bodies, and the flash of leather Serpent jackets in the corner of her eyes causes a heavy weight to settle on her chest.

“They’re pretty,” they comment, startling her out of her blank stare, and Jubilee glances to the side, catching sight of a familiar face she hasn’t seen much of since high school. Reggie Mantle stares at the flowers she was previously looking at, both hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. He doesn’t look at her, and that’s just as well.

They were never friends. Not really anyway. She never ran in the same circles as people like Reggie Mantle and he and Sweet Pea never got along, always at each other’s throats. Jubilee got along better with his girlfriend Lydia, but she isn’t with him today. For a moment, she frowns at him, unsure why he’s here, but this is Riverdale, and no one ever misses a funeral.

Jubilee stares at him for a moment longer before her eyes slide back to the flowers, unable to look away from them for long, as cold fingers wrap around her heart and squeeze, pulling her back in.

“Goodbye,” she tells him. Reggie glances down at her, eyes narrowing in bemusement. Jubilee meets his eyes for a second, gesturing to the flowers spilling out of the vase. “Sweet peas,” she elaborates, a bitter tinge to her voice, “they mean goodbye. Departure.” She swallows down the lump in her throat, arms curling around herself slowly. “Thank you for the lovely time and adieu.”

Reggie turns back to the flowers, clearing his throat as the bitter irony of their meaning registers. “So why’d you pick them?” he asks and Jubilee wants to say that it’s obvious. Sweet peas have always been important to her. The flowers were something of a joke between them. He used to leave single stocks of them in her locker from his mom’s shop before they ever got together, because they made her smile. It was  _always_  sweet peas.

It was always Sweet Pea.

And she should have known better than to think they’d ever get a happy ending in a town as fucked up as Riverdale.

Jubilee sighs, eyes squeezing shut tightly, and for a moment she can pretend she’s somewhere else, somewhere better, but the weight of Reggie’s gaze on the side of her face keeps her grounded, and when she opens her eyes again nothing has changed.

“He, uh, he brought me some on our first date.” A bittersweet smile curls at her lips. “He was being cheeky.” Sweet Pea always was a troublemaker in some of the best ways.

Reggie chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Sounds like him.”

“Yeah.” Jubilee breathes out a laugh. “They were pink and white,” she continues absentmindedly, playing with the ring on her finger. “He got them from his mom’s shop one afternoon while I working and left them on the counter for me.” Reggie snorts and her smile widens a fraction, fondness swelling in her chest. “He took me to the Drive-In the night it reopened because they were playing one of my favorite movies.”

“ _The Breakfast Club_.” She glances up at him, finding Reggie already looking at her. “He didn’t stop talking about that night for weeks,” he tells her, laughing a little. “How pretty you were. How you looked under the moonlight.” Jubilee rolls her eyes but Reggie holds up his hands. “I’m being serious! Dude was always a sap for you.” Snorting, Reggie turns back to the flowers and the framed picture beside them. “Man, he was already halfway in love with you before you even started dating. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t marry you sooner.”

Jubilee stiffens, fingers stilling on her ring as her eyes widen. Her throat goes tight, mouth dry and tongue heavy. Reggie seems to realize what he’s said only a moment later, his shoulders going tense as he turns to her, expression more apologetic than she’s ever seen him. “ _Shit_ —I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” she cuts him off quickly, a slight crack in her words, and Reggie winces, shame in his eyes. Jubilee clears her throat, forcing a smile. “Really, Reggie, it’s okay,” she tries to reassure him, wishing she could make herself sound more convincing.

Reggie’s eyes tear away from hers and he shifts from one leg to the other. “I fucking hate these things,” he murmurs suddenly, and Jubilee snorts in agreement.

Riverdale has had plenty of funerals over the last ten years, ever since Jason Blossom was murdered to satiate a beast that Clifford Blossom called upon. There have been blood sacrifices, strings of murders and suicides, so much death in one little town, but they never seem to get any easier.

Reggie’s hand slips into the inner pocket of his coat as he fishes out a small, steel flask and unscrews the top, glancing around them to make sure no one is watching before taking a swig. He surprises Jubilee by offering it to her next.

“Whiskey?” she asks him, glancing between him and the flask with a raised brow.

“Vodka.”

She gabs the flask and takes a quick swig, wincing as the alcohol burns at her throat. “Thanks, Mantle.”

Reggie doesn’t say another word, only takes the flask after she takes another long drink and passes it back. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t tell her everything will be okay when it won’t, and only sends her a halfhearted nod before he disappears back into the crowd.

 

 

 

The visitation stretches on, people filtering around the room, offering sympathies she doesn’t want until her head starts to pound, a migraine setting in. Briefly, she wonders how Mei Hua is handling things, but Jubilee hasn’t seen her since before the visitation started, while the two of them were setting up with Jughead and Betty’s help. The older woman didn’t say much, a far away look in her eyes as she muttered something in Mandarin that Jubilee didn’t catch, looking just as lost as Jubilee felt.

But that was over an hour ago, and Jubilee hasn’t had the heart to go looking for her.

Forcing a smile, she nods along with what the man in front of her is saying. He’s from the Toledo chapter, a representative her mother sent in her place, neither Gladys or JB able to make it to the funeral due to business. Something bitter settled into her heart when she was told they wouldn’t be there, and Jubilee understands it, she does, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make it hurt less.

The Toledo representative reaches out and Jubilee tries not to flinch as his fingers curl around her shoulder and squeeze in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. He lingers just a little too long, grip a little too tight, and her smile slips just the slightest before she pulls from his grasp, taking a step back. Jubilee murmurs a quiet apology, excusing herself before slipping away. The older Serpent lets her go without another word, disappearing into the sea of dark leather jackets in search of someone else to talk to.

By now her headache has only grown worse, tears burning at her eyes as her entire body throbs, but she ignores it as best she can, slipping away from the room long enough to down two Tylenol before coming straight back, knowing she can’t be away for long.

With her eyes squeezed shut briefly, Jubilee takes a deep breath before slipping back into the main room. She catches Jughead’s eye from across the room and forces a halfhearted smile that he returns with a shaky one of his own from where he stands with Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper. He sends her a look, a silent question there, asking if she needs him, but Jubilee only shakes her head.

She’s fine. She’s going to be just fine.

“Jubilee!” Her eyes rip away from Jughead at the sound of her name, her tense smile slipping into something more genuine when she recognizes the person calling out to her.

“Toni,” she greets softly, arms opening automatically as Toni worms through the crowded room, dragging her girlfriend Natalia behind her, both dressed in black, looking more put together than Jubilee feels. They reach her side quickly, and Toni latches onto her immediately, locking her in a fierce grip that almost puts Jubilee back together. She grips Toni back just as tightly, fingers clenching around Toni’s dark jacket, clinging to the shorter girl. Toni’s arms squeeze around her tight, one hand rubbing Jubilee’s back as she rocks the two of them.

A ragged breath tears from Jubilee as she drops her head to rest against Toni’s, the tears she’s been trying to hold back all day finally bubbling up to the surface, a whimper crawling out of her throat. Gently, Toni hushes her, cooing nonsense in her ear as Jubilee sinks further into her embrace, allowing herself to cry for the first time today, body quivering.

When Jubilee finally pulls back, Toni’s eyes are red and wet.

“How are you holdin’ up, Girly?” Toni asks her, fingers lacing through Jubilee’s as she takes a small step back, Natalia coming up beside her.

Jubilee squeezes Toni’s hand once before gently pulling away, arms curling around herself. “I’m okay,” she says, glancing between them. “Better than—it’s just…” She trails off, glancing down at the silver ring on her finger that suddenly feels much too cold against her skin. “It’s just a lot,” Jubilee tells them, shrugging slightly.

It’s too much too fast. She was barely getting used to calling him her fiancé, and then… And she’s trying, she’s trying  _so hard_  to be okay, but for the first time in over a decade you keeps looking over her shoulder and he isn’t there. She keeps expecting to wake up, open her eyes and see him there, but it doesn’t happen. It hasn’t quite registered yet, that he isn’t coming back. Jubilee feels like she’s in a free fall, just waiting to hit the ground but she just keeps falling instead, holding her breath.

The look in Toni’s eyes is too heavy and Jubilee has to look away, practically choking on the emotion welling up inside her. “Are you still coming to the Wyrm after this?” Toni fiddles with the sleeve of her jacket, and Natalia wraps an arm around her, pulling Toni flush against her side.

Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling heavily through her nose and fighting back a curse. She forgot about the memorial being held by the Serpents tonight, the Southside mourning the loss of their fallen Serpent King, their family. Jughead mentioned it to her vaguely the other day, but she was too wrapped up in planning with Mei Hua to think much of it.

A part of her wants to say no, that she’d rather be home, because she’s not sure she can deal with the crowd, with people asking if she’s okay, but it’s only right that she goes. Jubilee is a Serpent by blood, a Jones, and more than that she’s always been Sweet Pea’s girl, even before it was ever official.

And a crowded bar surrounded by her extended family and whiskey is better than going home to an empty house. She’d rather be where people live.

“Yeah,” she finally tells Toni, gaze sliding back to the other girl. “I might be a little late because of…” She gestures around the room, shrugging slightly as her hand falls back to her side. The get-together at the Wyrm is supposed to start around six if she remembers correctly, but she has no idea how long it might take get everything settled here.

Toni shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. “Don’t worry about it.” Again, she takes Jubilee’s hand in hers, squeezing tightly. “Everyone will understand.” Her smile slips, gaze sweeping around the room, and her voice lowers as she leans in closer. “What about Mei Hua?” Toni asks gently, still searching the room for the older woman.

Sighing, Jubilee grips Toni’s hand tighter. “I asked, but she just wants to be alone tonight.” And Jubilee can’t blame her for that. A piece of her might be missing with Sweet Pea gone, but Mei Hua lost the only family she had left. “Have either of you seen Fangs yet?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“No,” Toni tells her, softer than before. “I don’t know if he’s coming.” Taking her lip between her teeth, Toni crosses her arms, leaning further into Natalia’s side, the shorter brunette squeezing her waist. “You know how they were,” she tacks on lowly, and Jubilee sighs, running her fingers through her hair.

Fangs and Sweet Pea were practically inseparable, ever since they were kids, causing trouble wherever they went. Fangs took it just as hard as Jubilee did. After that first night he was a mess, drinking at the Wyrm for hours, not speaking to anyone, starting fights with whoever tried to cut him off. Jubilee hasn’t seen him all week, no one has, but hearing it from Toni only makes the worried knot in her stomach tighten.

Toni’s hand on her arm brings Jubilee back. Again, the couple shares a look, and Toni takes a deep breath before she sends a small smile to Jubilee. “We actually have something for you,” she says, turning to Natalia.

The shorter brunette wets her lips, shifting slightly before meeting Jubilee’s gaze. Natalia clears her throat, taking a step forward. “A couple of weeks ago, Sweet Pea asked me to make something,” she starts slowly, Jubilee frowning in confusion. While they both always loved Natalia’s work, neither had much interest in purchasing ceramics. The boys tended to roughhouse too much for them to own fragile art. “I don’t really know what it is, but he was supposed to pick it tonight. He wanted it ready for Valentine’s Day.” Natalia breaks their gaze, reaching for the bag looped over her shoulder. “I thought you might want it anyway.”

Natalia pulls a box out of her bag, plain with Sweet Pea’s name scribbled across the top in Nat’s messy scrawl, the familiar curves of the letters making her look away. Gingerly, Jubilee takes the box, frown deepening at how weightless it feels in her hands, but Natalia merely gestures for her to open it. She does, hesitating only a moment before unfolding the cardboard flaps, hand delving inside, feeling past the pieces of foam meant to protect what’s inside. What her fingers come in contact with is smooth, cold to the touch as she lifts it from the box, Natalia taking it back from her shaky hands.

It’s a bauble, a red ball made of glass small enough to rest in the palm of her hand, with delicate swirling gold vines and flowers curling all around the smooth surface, intricately woven through the deep burgundy glass. It’s hollow inside, and when it catches the light she can just barely see something coiled inside. Jubilee cradles it close to her, chest constricting as she realizes what it is.

“It has a piece of twine inside,” Natalia tells her, sending her a small, sad smile as Jubilee’s hands begin to tremble, “all knotted together. He said that part was important.”

A shaky sound spills from her, Jubilee’s eyes squeezing shut tight as the bauble suddenly feels so much heavier in her hands. “It’s part of the Old Religion,” she tells them, forcing her eyes open again as she traces a finger down one of the swirls of gold. “There’s a tradition… to give a bauble housing your heart and soul to your lover to keep in their home.” A breathy sound caught halfway between a laugh and a sob rips from her chest. “He was going to be away in March on business with the Toledo chapter.” Her eyes start to burn again, something swelling inside her, and Jubilee shakes her head, stepping away from them. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, gasping, “I can’t—I have to go.”

Her hand clenches so tightly around the bauble that for a moment she fears it might break, but the glass ball holds firm beneath her touch as she backs away from Toni and Natalia, entire body trembling as her throat tightens until she can hardly breathe. Toni reaches for her, concern swirling in her wide eyes, but Jubilee stumbles out of her reach. It’s like a blow to the chest, the bauble, that he was going to give his heart and soul to her, that he thought she would always keep them safe.

And now it’s too late.

“Jubilee?”

She ignores the calls of her name, slipping through the crowd of people, uncaring as she knows into others in her haste to get away. The room is too small. There’s too many people. She can’t  _breathe_. Someone catches her by the elbow, yanking her back around. Blue eyes lock with hers, her brother’s gaze swimming with concern. Another sob bubbles out of her, her fingers tightening around the bauble. Jughead’s gaze flicks to the object in her hands, grip going slack as he recognizes it, and Jubilee rips away from him, slipping from the room before he can stop her.

 

 

 

Jubilee curls in on herself, sinking down onto the front steps of the building, dark hair falling around her face in a tangled mess. She runs a trembling hand through her hair, fingers catching in knots. The glass freezes in her hands. The cold February air bites through her, her coat still inside, Jubilee vulnerable to the wind, but it’s only a persisting, bitter numbness that washes over her as she squeezes her eyes shut, unable to contain the deep, heaving gasps ripping straight from her chest.

The shaking in her hands gets worse with the cold, the bauble nearly slipping from her fingers before she draws it closer, curving around it protectively. Her knees are drawn to her chest, Jubilee rocking slowly against the steps.

She barely feels it as something warm settles around her shoulders, a familiar weight that she would recognize anywhere. It’s the smell that she notices first, and her heart aches because of it.

If she closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of leather and motor oil she can almost forget that the last week was real, that that night was real, that he’s gone. But it isn’t Sweet Pea’s jacket draped around her shivering frame, and it isn’t Sweet Pea that settles on the steps beside her, arm curling around her shoulders and holding her tight to his side. It’s not cinnamon and wood smoke that floods her lungs, no matter how badly she wishes it was. She’s pulled close against Fangs, his grip around her tight as he drops down beside her and tucks her against his chest, letting her curl into him as she cradles the bauble to her breast.

Jubilee goes into his arms willingly, latching on tightly as his arm squeezes around her, one of his hands rubbing against her arm to chase away the cold. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, only holds her until she quiets, rocking them both. Fang’s head drops down to rest against hers and his body shakes just as much as hers, and she breaks.

“I couldn’t,” Jubilee gasps, “I couldn’t do it,” she tells him, murmuring nonsense as he strokes her hair, whispering a lullaby in Spanish against her ear. The words are lost on her as she sobs, looking so much smaller beneath his jacket than she’s ever been before, the leather swallowing her up. She’s not even sure what she’s saying, everything just spilling out there on the steps of the Riverdale Funeral Home, everything she didn’t say before, everything she  _wishes_  she said, it all just comes tumbling out.

It’s not until just now, on the steps with Sweet Pea’s heart in her hands and Fangs shaking against her that the free fall stops.

They sit like that for a long time, desperately clinging to one another. No one comes looking for them, and if they do, they simply leave them to their grief, even as the memorial inside begins. Neither Jubilee nor Fangs move to stand, too exhausted and numb to do anything but lean against one another. Fangs plays with a coil of her hair, winding it around his fingers because he needs to do something with his hands so they don’t start shaking.

Eventually, Jubilee finds the energy to speak, body going slack against his side. “You should go inside,” she tells him, the words sounding far away, voice cracking as her eyes slip shut. A quivering breath slips from her mouth, breath fogging in the air. She’s known Fangs long enough to know he would never forgive himself for not saying goodbye, but he doesn’t pull away from her embrace.

Fangs brushes her hair away from her face, grip only tightening around her. “I promised,” he murmurs, and she almost doesn’t hear him. He sniffs, squeezing her arm, suddenly louder than before. “I promised if anything ever happened to him I’d—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off just as quietly, curling the bauble closer to her chest. “Please, just don’t.”

They both miss the memorial service.

* * *

 

Sinking into the bar-stool, Jubilee throws back another shot. The alcohol burns down her throat but she only sighs, settling further onto her seat, the bustling of the Wyrm a dull hum in her ears. It’s late, most of the Serpents have been here for hours now, drinking and sharing old stories about Sweet Pea, but Jubilee hasn’t wanted any part of it. The other Serpents have left her alone so far, giving her a wide berth after she disappeared from the memorial earlier in the afternoon. No one has said anything about it, not yet, but the wary stares of some of the Serpents burn against her back, everyone keeping a close eye on her, unsure what she might do.

She traces the rim of her glass with a finger, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Hog Eye raises a brow from further down the bar, silently asking if she wants another shot, but she waves him off, shaking her head as her fingers tap the side of the shot glass. She needs to slow down. As much as she’d like to forget for one night, she knows better than that. Jubilee has watched so many Serpents turn to alcohol, drinking away their problems until it all comes crashing down on them. She watched it happen to her father, her uncles, so many people, and as much as she hurts now, she knows that’s not who she wants to be.

She exhales slowly through her nose, eyes slipping shut as laughter breaks out on the other side of the room. Her lips quirk up slightly, Jubilee only guessing what they might be talking about. Sweet Pea was always a character, always causing trouble, especially when they were teenagers. They all got into so much mischief back then, enough to give the older Serpents like her father and Dutch grey hairs.

“Jubilee.”

Her eyes snap open, head twisting around as she tenses, only to relax again when she sees a pair of familiar faces. “Hey, you two,” she murmurs back to them, fiddling with the shot glass again.

Two younger Serpents, Isaac and Dexy shuffle awkwardly in place, avoiding her gaze, eyes bloodshot from crying, and Jubilee softens at the sight of them, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. They’ve been Serpents for a few years now, both recently turning seventeen. They were under Sweet Pea’s guidance back when they were new to the gang, the pair of them causing just as much trouble as Sweets and Fangs used to when they were kids. Sweet Pea always had his hands full with them and Isaac and Dexy practically idolized him, following him around wherever he went, always trying to help. And as much as sweet Pea used to gripe about it, Jubilee knows he was just as fond of them, taking the role of an older sibling in stride.

Sweet Pea didn’t have many people to look up to when he was growing up, but he made damn sure to make time for the younger Serpents whenever they needed him.

The pair exchange a brief look and Isaac runs a hand through his dark, messy curls, looking paler than usual beside Dexy, who picks at the sleeve of his leather jacket, dark skin flushed. Jubilee spins the shot glass in her hand, bemused as she waits for them to speak. Isaac shuffles again, hands behind his back, and Dexy takes a deep breath. “We, uh, we have something.  _For you_. We wanted to give you something…” he trails off awkwardly and Jubilee bites back a grin at their flustered expressions. Dexy clears his throat, nudging Isaac. “Here.”

Isaac thrusts out a hand towards her, a dark mass in his grip. Jubilee frowns slightly in confusion, but takes the object anyway, leaning over on her stool to pull it close. Her entire body goes rigid as she realizes what it is. The smell hits her first, cinnamon and wood smoke, something spicy that she would recognize anywhere, the scent engraved in the leather after all the years he wore it.

Jubilee chokes up as she brings the old jacket close to her, fingers clenching tightly around the aged leather. She didn’t know what happened to it after that night. She was given his things by the Sheriff, his keys and wallet, the dog tags he always wore, but not his clothes, not his  _jacket_.

Her hands shake as she pulls it close to her chest.

Stepping away from her, Isaac rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “We tried to get the bloodstains out but—”

Dexy’s elbow slams into his ribs and Isaac yelps, wincing. “Shut the fuck up, Isaac,” Dexy hisses through his teeth, sending his friend a nasty glare that Isaac returns, rubbing at his side with a huff.

Jubilee inhales sharply, breathing in the scent of him as her eyes water, a thickness growing in her throat. A wheezing sound slips from her and the boys stop glaring at one another, eyes wide as they look back at her in concern.

“Shit,” Isaac murmurs, wincing again when he sees the look on her face, the way her fingers tremble just the slightest. Shame flashes in his eyes. “Jubilee, we didn’t—”

“Thank you,” she cuts him off softly, eyes slipping shut as she lets the cinnamon scent wash over her, her body relaxing against the stool. A tear slips from her as she opens her eyes with a watery, breathy-laugh. She looks up at the boys again, the concern in their eyes raw, something nervous there. “Really,” Jubilee tells them, cradling the leather jacket close to her, “ _thank you_.”

Neither boy has the time to respond as Fangs returns to her side, only leaving earlier to talk with Joaquin about something outside, a smoke break even though the two of them quit years ago.

“Hey, Jubilee, you ready to—” He stops when he sees the tears in her eyes, expression immediately going steely as he whirls on Isaac and Dexy. “What the fuck did you two do?” he snarls. The younger Serpents both flinch, not used to Fangs raising his voice at them like that. He’s always been the calm one, the goofy Serpent that smiles too much and used to participate in their high school’s musical theater program.

Most people don’t know that Fangs has a temper when it comes to his family. He’d do anything to keep them safe.

Isaac shrinks back under Fangs glare, stumbling into Dexy. “We didn’t—”

Fangs doesn’t let him finish. “Christ, hasn’t she fucking dealt with enough today?” Fangs snaps, drawing the attention of some of the nearby Serpents, voice loud in the semi-hushed bar.

He moves to take a step towards them, but stills when Jubilee’s fingers curl around the sleeve of his jacket, grip firm but gentle. “Fangs, stop,” she tells him lowly. He tenses, glancing down at her over his shoulders, concerned eyes searching hers. “It’s fine. They didn’t mean any harm they just…” she trails off, a sad smile forming on her mouth as she holds the jacket tighter to her, Fangs noticing it for the first time.

His eyes widen as he realizes whose it is, expression softening, and he turns to face her fully, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, Fangs’ thumb brushing a stray tear away from her eye. He ducks down to press a quick kiss to her temple and she sighs, leaning into him.

“Are you ready to go?” he whispers, one hand rubbing her back between her shoulders, anger gone just as quickly as it came.

Jubilee nods and he pulls away from her. “Yeah, just give me a minute?” Fangs hums his agreement, settling onto the bar-stool next to her as she turns back to the two boys, both still eyeing Fangs warily. “Isaac, Dexy.” Their eyes snap towards her and Jubilee’s expression hardens. “I have a job for you.” She taps two fingers on the bar when she catches Hog Eye’s eye again, requesting one more shot before she goes. The younger Serpents nod enthusiastically, always eager to take on a request.

“Of course.”

“What do you want us to do?”

A part of her feels bad for asking them this now, a seed of guilt planted in them by Fangs, but she knows that she can trust them to do what she asks.

It’s been quiet on the Southside all week, the Serpents grieving and the Ghoulies hiding away in their holes in the walls, waiting. There should have been a meeting by now between FP and Malachai. Not only was a Serpent murdered, it was on their own territory, and peace with the Ghoulies was already tense, practically nonexistent. And she’s done waiting for her father or Malachai to make the first move.

“Ezekiel,” she tells them, a tight-lipped smile curling at her mouth, a nasty edge to it. Both boys flinch at the name and on the barstool beside her Fangs tenses, jaw clenching tightly as he shoots her a look out of the corner of his eye. Jubilee ignores it, lifting the shot glass that Hog Eye slides to her from down the bar. “I want to know if he’s celebrating tonight.” Ignoring their stunned looks, Jubilee throws back the drink and slides from the stool, folding the jacket over her arm delicately.

Fangs curses behind her, mumbling something to the boys she doesn’t catch before hurrying after her, Jubilee’s heels clicking loudly across the floor.

If the Ghoulies want war, they’ve got it.

* * *

 

Jubilee keeps his heart in a box, the glass too fragile to be kept anywhere but locked away. The wooden box is tucked into the back corner of their closet, beneath a wool blanket that Jubilee’s grandmother made years ago. The inside is lined in dark velvet, the bauble cradled gently in the swath of fabric. She takes it out more than she’d ever admit, holding it close to her when no one else is around, at night when it’s too quiet in the house. She’s used to his breath on the back of her neck, his body shifting beside hers, always restless.

It keeps her awake at night, the stillness in the room. It’s worse when she does sleep. In that hazy moment just as the sunlight is spilling in at dawn she can feel him there against her back, warm hands on her skin, lips on her neck, the echo of a breath stirring her hair. And then she wakes up and it all falls away. A memory. A ghost. And it makes her skin itch, something sick swirling in her stomach.

So she keeps his heart close, the warmth of it pressed against her chest in the darkest stretch of he night, a dull pulse coming from inside, almost a heartbeat, but not quite. But it’s enough. It’s enough to know she has his heart, even if she doesn’t have her own.

She never knew where he kept hers. It’s been missing since that night. Jubilee has looked, but it’s nowhere in the house, and she doesn’t know where else he would keep it.

There’s a myth she’s heard, a whisper from the others like her, that the glass hearts will break, that that they’ll shatter and turn to dust. A bauble can only be given once and never taken back. It’s something sacred to the Old Religion, a promise that can’t be broken, but can die with time. She’s contemplated asking her mother if it’s true, what the other’s say, but a part of Jubilee knows she couldn’t handle the answer.

 

 

 

She returns to the Godswood just over a week after the funeral, the forest so much colder than before, the last long stretch of winter before spring. The tree is just as it was during the blood moon, roots twisted in knots that spread all through the clearing, stretching out thorny arms. The great white trunk of the tree seems bigger than before, the leaves a more vibrant red, and Jubilee wonders if that’s a product of the Blood Moon, of the sacrifice, however small it was.

The forest falls into a hush as she crosses the clearing, steps slow and deliberate, eyes only on the Godswood. The wind falters as she comes closer, the air still and silent, and Jubilee takes a breath as she stares at the great tree.

She doesn’t know why she’s come here, what there is to gain from venturing this deep into the forest when she has nothing to offer, nothing left to give. It’s disrespectful to the Old Gods, to seek them out with nothing to exchange, but Jubilee doesn’t want council. The full moon passed just days after they buried him and for the first time that Jubilee can remember she didn’t wake with knots in her hair, flowers in the window. And she wouldn’t care, but something about it leaves her hollow, empty inside, and she can’t help but wonder if she lost more than just him that night.

Jubilee doesn’t stop until she’s standing just before the Godswood, closer than the last time she was here, unafraid even as the branches seem to bend and twist around her, moving even without the wind, so alive. Slowly, she reaches out, fingertips sliding along the rough surface of the tree, and it hums beneath her touch, warmth blooming under her palm.

And the forest whispers  _Darling, where did your heart go?_  but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

 

 

 

She gets him tattooed over her heart, a delicate little thing, pastel pink blossoms curling along her collarbone above her breast, a splash of life against her pale skin. She’s been so devoid of color in the weeks since they buried him, cold and quiet, the bruises under her eyes growing darker. It was supposed to get better.

People say it gets better, but the anger and heartache are still there, bloody and raw like an open wound, lingering just under the surface of her skin.

It hurts and bleeds, the needle driving into her skin to the bone, but Jubilee relishes the sting, letting it mask the ache that’s grown familiar in her chest, if only for a little while. And it’s good, even better than the double-headed snake curled along her ribs, with clean lines swooping along the curve of her chest, and no seems surprised when they see it on her skin, like it’s meant to be there. They never mention it and neither does Jubilee, content to let it lie. One last piece of him.

* * *

 

In the days after going to the Godswood she starts to feel sick. Her headaches come back and exhaustion creeps through her, lack of sleep in recent weeks finally catching up. Jubilee can’t keep anything down, an acidic taste taking root in her mouth. At first, she thinks it might be a curse, a reprimand from the forest, but the Folk don’t deal in body aches for such minor offenses, only nasty tricks: missing left shoes, pens that won’t work, people speaking in tongue-twisted phrases. Never anything like this.

The sickness persists, to the point where she begins to worry as the days bleed from February to March, blurring together, the weeks too short and yet achingly long.  

Jubilee drops her head down against the rim of the toilet, sighing as the porcelain cools her burning skin. Her eyes slip shut, stomach still rolling slightly, though she manages to keep it down, having nothing left to throw up. The vibration of her phone on the counter makes her groan, and Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut tighter, head pounding at the incessant buzzing. She draws her knees towards her chest, curling into herself, sighing as the new position soothes her stomach momentarily.

A cold hand clenches around her heart until she can’t breathe as a fleeting though crosses her mind. Jubilee counts the days backwards in her head, hands shaking as she fists them in the too long, too big, too warm sweater she must have stolen from Sweet Pea. It hits her and she swears under her breath, choking up. Her phone rings again as she curls in on herself, taking deep, gasping breaths, panic welling in her chest.

Her skin is clammy when she finally peels herself away from the toilet. She stands on shaking legs, groping blindly for her phone. A series of texts and missed calls flash on the scene but she ignores them, searching her contacts for a specific name.

“Toni,” Jubilee breathes into the phone as she picks up, a whimper catching in her throat, “I need you.”

 

 

 

By the time Toni gets there, Jubilee is curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tucked between the shower and the toilet, knees drawn to her chest, making her look smaller than usual, younger, more fragile. Jubilee doesn’t react as Toni slips into the room, dumping her bag on the bathroom counter and crouching in front of her, eyes blown wide with concern. “Jubilee,” she murmurs, reaching out for her, movements slow and deliberate, “what’s wrong?” Her fingers wrap around Jubilee’s arm and the other girl’s eyes snap up, puffy and red.

Jubilee’s mouth opens, but the only sound that leaves her is a fractured, wet, crackling sound. She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut as she inhales sharply through her nose, a subtle tremble to her hands. “I think I’m pregnant,” she murmurs, looking back up at Toni, who goes still.

“What do mean you—” Toni chokes off, grip going slack around Jubilee as she shrinks back at Toni’s tone. Immediately, Toni’s hand finds Jubilee’s, squeezing tight. “When was your last—”

“December,” Jubilee cuts her off, gaze flicking around nervously, unable to linger on Toni long. She drops her head back to rest against the wall, nails digging into the back of Toni’s hand. “I didn’t think anything—I thought I was just—I thought—” She stumbles over the words, quaking. Thought it was the stress. The lack of eating. An Old God’s curse. “But it’s been two months and I don’t—”

Toni hushes her, dropping Jubilee’s hand and grabbing her by the shoulders instead, holding her steady. “Hey, look at me.” Her grip is firm as she ducks down to better meet Jubilee’s eyes, shaking her slightly. “Jubilee, look at me.” She does, taking a slow, shuddering breath. “It’s gonna be okay,” Toni tells her, a firm edge to her voice.

“Is it?” she asks, gaze snapping up to meet Toni’s, a fierce look in her eyes. “How is any of this  _okay_?” A humorless laugh spills out of Jubilee, one hand fisting in her hair. “Toni, what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t—” She doesn’t finish, jaw snapping shut. She can’t do this, not with everything else, not with the hollow feeling in her chest that carves in deeper every day.

Toni is quiet for a long time and Jubilee drops back against the wall, boneless and exhausted. She worries her lower lip, taking it between her teeth and chewing until it bleeds. Plucking at a loose thread in her sweater, she stills as Toni’s hand curls around hers, lacing their fingers together. “Did you take a test?” she asks softly, thumb rubbing across Jubilee’s knuckles. Jubilee shakes her head, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Okay.” Toni takes a deep breath. “Okay, we’ll figure this out.”

Jubilee nods absentmindedly, not quite believing it. She goes willingly when Toni opens her arms, leaning in to engulf Jubilee in a bone-crushing embrace that almost puts her back together. Almost.

“It’s gonna be fine, JJ,” Toni says, and it sounds like a promise. The use of the old nickname makes Jubilee cling to her tighter.

 

 

 

But it’s not fine. Jubilee takes three tests and they all end up positive. The little pink lines are almost mocking as she stares down at them and it makes her sick. Toni convinces her to schedule a doctor’s appointment, just to make sure, because it could be a false positive, though they both know how unlikely that is.

She doesn’t know what to do, and neither does Toni, and when Fangs comes looking for her, concerned by her radio silence, it all comes spilling out. She ends up curled between them on the couch, the three of them sitting in silence as an old movie plays on the TV. Fangs has an arm locked around her, hand smoothing over her hair as he murmurs clipped phrases in Spanish against her ear to sooth her, while Toni has her hand locked in a vice grip. And Jubilee goes back to where she was a month ago. A different house. A different night. The same empty feeling in her chest.

Her appointment comes the next morning and Fangs insists on taking her, a hand on her back holding her steady as they walk into the clinic. Her hands shake and she looks small, swallowed up in Sweet Pea’s Serpent jacket as she’s lead to the front desk to check in.

It all happens in a blur. The room. The tests. The doctors. The results.

And Fangs knows. As soon as he sees her face he knows. And if it were any other time she thinks he might be ecstatic. He’s always been good with kids, always said he would be the best uncle, and she knows he still will, but the situation is bitter. It doesn’t change the hollow feeling inside them both, just makes it a little bit bigger.

He’s halfway up from his seat when she bursts at the seams, unable to hold herself together any longer. She’s sobbing, trembling by the time he reaches her and yanks her tight up against him. Jubilee collapses into Fangs, eyes squeezing shut as her stomach rolls. He hushes her, stroking her hair and rubbing circles against her back, asking if she wants to go home, but it only makes her cry harder.

The trailer in Sunnyside isn’t home. Not anymore.

“Do you think it’s a curse?” she asks, later, at Pops after she’s calmed down. She swirls her straw around in her half finished shake, chewing the inside of her cheek. Fangs glances up from across the booth, pulling away from the pamphlet they gave her about what to expect in the coming weeks. “History repeating itself.” Her eyes leave his as he frowns, gaze sliding to the side to look out the window. “He never got to meet his dad either.” She turns back to Fangs and his expression is pained. Jubilee’s eyes water, her throat tightening up. “It’s not fair,” she whispers.

He reaches for her across the table, gaze soft, and Jubilee grabs for him blindly, catching his hand in hers and clinging to him tightly. “I know,” he murmurs back to her, thumb brushing against her knuckles slowly as her hand begins to tremble in his. “He would have been so fucking thrilled,” Fangs tells her, squeezing her fingers as he laughs breathlessly. It chokes off into nothing and he stares back down at his drink. “Absolutely terrified but so goddamn happy.”

Her lips quirk up just the slightest. “He would have been a good dad.” Jubilee rests her free hand over her belly, a strange calm washing over her as she thinks about how excited he would have been. They’d never talked about kids, but she can almost picture the smile that would light up his face, one she’ll never get to see.

* * *

 

It’s surprisingly easy, keeping her pregnancy from the Serpents, her family. She’s six weeks along, not showing yet, but the signs are there. The morning sickness gets worse and she stops drinking and Fangs is even more protective than usual, taking up his role of uncle and godfather without so much as a word, but everyone writes it off the same way as she did. They know she hasn’t been sleeping, that she’s been sick, but they think it’s only the grief, loss still clinging to her like a second skin.

So no one asks, and Toni and Fangs promise to keep quiet until she’s ready, not wanting to press too hard too fast. A lot has happened in the last month, too much to process so quickly, and so they let her be, keeping close in case she wants to talk and distracting her when they need to.

Somehow she ends up with Hot Dog. Two days after her appointment, Fangs showed up with the big sheepdog and a bag of kibble, handing them off to her without an explanation. Briefly, she wondered how Fangs talked her father into allowing him to take the dog, but the thought left her as soon as Hot Dog wagged his tail, nails clicking as he skittered across the floor to greet her, sniffing and nosing at her until she crouched down to pet him.

It was the first time she really smiled since the night he died.

Jubilee dropped down in front of the excited dog, the floor cold against her skin, and Hot Dog nearly knocked her over, licking at her face and hands. Fangs only watched from just inside the front door, a slow grin tugging at his mouth as she giggled, squealing as Hot Dog shoved his cold nose against the side of her neck.

Things are better, having someone— _something_  else in the house. Something alive. It isn’t the same by any stretch, but she feels better knowing she’s not completely alone. Jubilee let Hot Dog sleep on the bed with her the first night and he hasn’t left her side since, following her around through the house and curling up next to her on the couch, head on her lap and tail wagging.

She breathes just a little bit easier with him around.

 

 

 

Somehow, Jubilee ends up with Betty Cooper sitting across from her in the living room, looking out of place in the small trailer, fidgeting awkwardly. Despite how long they’ve known each other they’ve never been friends, not even after Jughead and Betty began dating in high school. And maybe it’s because of Jubilee or maybe it’s because of Betty, but they’ve never found common ground. Jubilee has never liked the smugness of the Cooper women and Betty never quite forgave Jubilee for denying her entrance into the Serpents, and that’s always been fine. Jubilee has never had an interest in befriending the Cooper girl.

And she knows that Betty isn’t here to make friends, not really. She’s here because Jughead asked her to, because he’s gotten it into his head that she shouldn’t be alone right now and Betty is the only option left. Jughead has some meeting with their father. Fangs and Joaquin are off on a run in Greendale. Toni is working. Jubilee would be too, if Mei Hua would let her.

She hasn’t said anything, but Jubilee gets the feeling the woman knows more than she’s let on. At first, she let Jubilee stay, let her throw herself into working at the shop at odd hours, let her work herself into the ground. Valentine’s Day was the worst of it. It was hard, putting on a smile two days after she buried her fiancé, seeing couples in the shop. It was almost too much, but Jubilee  _begged_  Mei Hua not to send her home. She couldn’t be alone. Not that day. And Mei Hua let her stay. But lately she’s been firm about Jubilee having certain days off, and Jubilee hasn’t had the heart to fight her on it.

“I know how you feel,” Betty says suddenly, disrupting the uneasy silence they’ve fallen into. She shifts slightly on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her as Jubilee frowns, gaze flicking up from her book and pinning Betty in place.

Jubilee doesn’t respond right away, book settling in her lap as she stops absentmindedly running her fingers through Hot Dog’s fur. The big sheepdog whines, nosing at her hand, and she ruffles his ears until he flops back down at her feet. “Excuse me?” Jubilee purses her lips, eyeing Betty critically.

Betty bites her lip, fidgeting. Her green eyes flit around the room and she swallows, finally meeting Jubilee’s gaze once again, hesitant but determined, and it leaves a sour taste in Jubilee’s mouth. “I know how you feel,” she starts slowly, clasping her hands in her lap and leaning forward.

Betty’s gaze is suddenly soft, empathetic, and it makes Jubilee’s jaw clench. Her stomach fills with ice as she closes her book, placing it on the side table with more force than necessary. “What the hell are you going on about, Cooper?” Hot Dog makes a soft sound at the sharpness of her voice, Jubilee narrowing her eyes at Betty in confusion.

“I know how you feel,” Betty repeats gently, “about what happened to Sweet Pea.”

Scoffing, Jubilee shoves herself from the chair, a laugh of sheer disbelief spilling out of her mouth as her hand rakes through her hair. She chokes up just as quickly, eyes squeezing shut. It’s his name that does it. Everyone has been so careful not to say it around her, not since the funeral. And it’s so  _good_  to hear someone say it. It’s good and bittersweet and it makes something inside her  _ache_.

Betty stands slowly. “Jubilee,” she tries again, taking a small step forward, “talk to me, please?” Jubilee’s hands shake, nails biting into her palms. “Look, I understand how horrible this all must be.” The smile Betty sends her is tight. A little practiced. A little forced. “When I almost lost Jughead—”

“Shut up,” Jubilee bites out, but she just keeps talking. “Betty, shut up!” The other girl takes a step back as Jubilee glares at her. “You have no idea how I feel,” she spits at Betty. “This isn’t like when we were kids. Sweet Pea isn’t going to wake up and everything will be fine. He’s  _dead_.” Her heart lurches, stomach flipping. It’s the first time she’s said his name since that night and it makes her feel sick. Jubilee wraps her arms protectively around her middle, a sob sticking in her throat. “Sweet Pea is dead,” she chokes out, softer this time.

It’s quiet. The words hang heavy in the air. Betty chews her bottom lip, refusing to meet Jubilee’s gaze as she fiddles with the hem of her sweater. Finally, she sighs, green eyes flicking up to meet Jubilee’s. “I realize that, I just—”

“Don’t.” Jubilee’s shoulders droop, exhaustion overtaking her. “Just get out.”

“Jubilee.”

“Get out,” she repeats firmly. Betty stares at her for a moment, mouth opening like she wants to say something, but thinks better of it. Eventually, she straightens, gaze on the ground as she slips around Jubilee.

The door slams shut behind her and Jubilee sinks back onto the chair, curling her legs close to her chest. Hot Dog whines at her feet until she pats the cushion beside her and the shaggy dog hops up, sitting in her lap, wet tongue lapping at her face until she wraps her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder.

 

 

 

The front door is thrown open without warning.

Hot Dog is off the chair in a second, snarling as someone storms into the trailer. Jubilee’s reaction is slower, half-asleep where she’s still curled into the chair. The book slips from between her fingers, clattering to the floor, and she snaps around. With one hand, Jubilee grabs Hot Dog by the collar, yanking him back before he can go barreling towards the intruder.

“Hot Dog!” she hisses, shushing him once she sees who it is. Her eyes narrow as her brother slams the door shut, glaring at her. She’s taken aback by his entrance, and even more so by the look in his eyes. He should know better than to break into someone’s home like this, especially on the Southside. It’s a good way to get hurt, bursting in like this. “Jughead, what—”

“What the fuck is your problem, Jubilee?” he snaps at her before she can finish, so much venom in his tone that it makes her flinch. Because he’s never shouted at her like that, not even when they were teenagers and would argue about anything and everything. Not once in the twenty-three years they’ve been alive has he ever talked to her like this.

Hot Dog growls at Jughead’s raised voice and Jubilee’s grip around his collar tightens as the dog strains against her.

She can only stare at him, taken aback by his tone. Jughead stands in the entry way fuming, waiting for a response. Jubilee opens her mouth, then closes it again just as quickly, her eyes narrowing. “Did Betty send you to talk to me?” He tenses and she scoffs.

He’s quiet for a moment, watching Hot Dog and avoiding her gaze, shifting from one foot to the next. “Look I get it, okay?” Jughead says, softer than before though there’s still an edge to the words. “I get that you’re angry and upset right now, but you don’t need to take that out on her.”

“Then maybe Betty should stop sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Jubilee snaps back at him. She lets go of Hot Dog, who looks up at her as she slips from her spot, still glaring at him, ready for an argument if it should come to that. Jughead still won’t meet her eyes, and she crosses her arms, stomach dropping. “You’re not here for Betty,” she murmurs.

His gaze flicks to hers for just a second and he swallows. “Dad wanted me to talk to you.” Jughead pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing, expression apologetic.  “They’re talking about making me the new Serpent King. I wanted to tell you before…” He shrugs, but the implication is there. Before they make it official. Before they announce it to the entire gang and the news spreads across the Southside. Before she had to hear it from someone else.

“Three weeks.” Jughead sends her a bemused look, eyes finding hers, and the smile she sends him is mean. “That’s how long he’s been in the ground. Three  _fucking_  weeks.” Jughead flinches and she laughs. “you and dad have no fucking shame.”

Jubilee shoves past him, heading towards the kitchen, Hot Dog on her heels.

Jughead twists on his heel, following after her. “We can’t have the Ghoulies know how vulnerable we are now,” he reasons, though it sounds bitter coming from him. A part of her knows he’s right. Sweet Pea was the next Serpent King and he was murdered on Serpent territory. That leaves them vulnerable, the Serpents rattled by what happened. They look weak in the  eyes of the Ghoulies, and they can’t have that.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Then  _maybe_  we should do something about them.” She keeps her back to Jughead as she opens the refrigerator, immediately going for the bottle of whiskey tucked into the back. Jubilee swears under her breath, shaking her head as retracts her hand and slams the door shut. “Like I’ve been saying for weeks.”

“You can’t just go after the Ghoulies like that, Jubilee, you’re going to get yourself killed.” Jughead’s voice is strained, exasperated, anger still burning beneath the surface as he hovers in the entryway.

Jubilee whirls on him. “I don’t care!” She doesn’t mean for it to slip out, but the words leave her in a rush and she can’t take them back. Jughead’s eyes widen, his arms going slack at his sides as he stares at her. There’s something horrified in his gaze that makes her sick. Jubilee curls her arms around herself, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t care anymore,” she repeats quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m tired, Jug. I’m so, so tired of waking up without him.”

And maybe that’s pathetic, but she’s beyond caring anymore. Everything that’s happened in the last month has been too much too soon and she doesn’t know how to handle it anymore. She can’t keep doing this.

For once in his life, Jughead doesn’t seen to know what to say. He takes a step further into the room, murmuring, “Jubilee?”

She sniffs, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. A strained smile tugs at her lips. “I wish they’d killed me too.” Jughead blanches and she trembles, the weight of those words settling over them both. “I wish,” Jubilee says, swallowing the lump in her throat, “Ezekiel had have just killed me.”

Jughead shakes his head. “You don’t mean that,” he finally chokes out. “Jubilee, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” A part of her is startled by the easy confession, but she lets it all come spilling out, exhaustion overtaking her. “Every single day.” A short, bitter laugh tears from her. “Sometimes I forget. When I first wake up. That he’s not there.” She fiddles with the sleeve of her top. “Sometimes I wake up and I swear,  _I swear_  I can feel him breathing on my neck, but it’s not real. It’s just a dream. Wishful thinking,” she murmurs. Tears build in her eyes, and she barely registers Jughead coming closer to her. “And it’s hard, it’s just so hard. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Warm hands latch onto her shoulders, firm as they hold her upright. Jughead ducks down to meet her eyes, a flicker of fear in his gaze. “It’ll get—”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head, trying to pull away from him, but he refuses to let go. “Don’t tell me it gets better, Jughead.” None of this can get better. She’s still pregnant and Sweet Pea is still dead and they’re still on the brink of war with the Ghoulies. Jubilee sobs, tears finally overflowing, and she swipes at them with her sleeve. “God I am so  _sick_  of crying.”

Jughead doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her fully, drawing her into a bone crushing hug that knocks the breath out of her. He squeezes so tightly it almost hurts, but it’s the safest she’s felt since that night at the park and she clings to him. Jughead cups the back of her head as Jubilee trembles against him, fingers fisting at his jacket. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in her ear, voice thick. “If I could make this better…”

She shakes her head. “I just want him to come back,” she tells him. “We were supposed to go home.”

“I know,” he hushes her, rubbing her back between her shoulders as Jubilee hiccups. “I know.”

* * *

 

The news of Jughead becoming the next Serpent King spreads quickly through the Southside. The Serpents are rattled by the news, especially so soon after Sweet Pea’s death. A month isn’t a long time, and the Serpents have always been loyal to a fault. It feels like a betrayal, crowning a new king so soon, but Jughead was right. They don’t have much of a choice anymore. There’s already blood in the water. It’s only a matter of time before an all out war starts on the Southside, and the Serpents need to pick themselves back up. Move on.

Only it’s not that easy.

Jughead never wanted to be the Serpent King. And while his loyalty to the gang has never wavered, there are some who still don’t believe he should be king, that he hasn’t earned it. A part of Jubilee agrees, the part that feels guilty, the part that hates her father for asking her to be okay with this. And the other Serpents look at her in pity or sympathy when FP announces the news at a meeting. She hates the looks, and when FP tries to talk to her afterwards, she walks out of the Wyrm without sparing him a look. There’s nothing he can do to fix this.

More than anything, the news forces FP’s hand, a meeting finally being called between the Serpents and Ghoulies, just over a month since Ezekiel murdered Sweet Pea. The tensions between the gangs just grow thicker after that. Skirmishes break out, mostly between the younger Serpents and Ghoulies. Everyone is looking for a fight, and things come boiling over.

They meet at the Wyrm, per tradition, with FP calling the meeting. Beyond that it’s also a show of strength, the Serpents presenting a united front, allowing the Ghoulies onto their territory, proof they aren’t broken.

FP closes the Wyrm for the day, the meetings between the gangs private, a select group. For the Serpents it’s the three members of the Jones family, though Jubilee had to argue with FP to allow it, and three others of their choosing. Jubilee and Jughead choose Fangs and Joaquin respectively, and FP brings in Dutch, who Jubilee hasn’t seen since that night at FP’s trailer.

Jubilee is at the bar with Fangs and Joaquin standing on either side of her when the Ghoulies finally come strolling in.

The grin on Malachai’s face knocks the breath out of her, and Joaquin and Fangs shift as she tenses. Malachai has three Ghoulie officers behind him, none of which are Ezekiel, and Jubilee isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved. She hates him. And Jubilee isn’t ashamed to admit that she wishes he was dead, but she’s also terrified. She saw the sick glee in his eyes that night, the calm reasoning, the planning. He beat Sweet Pea because it would start a war and because it was fun.

Malachai and his lieutenants head for the table near the bar where FP, Jughead, and Dutch are already waiting, but Jubilee’s gaze flicks back to the door as the men exchange greetings, her jaw clenching as Penny Peabody slips into the room.

Penny’s gaze slides around the room, flicking between each person, and her eyes light up when she catches sight of the people at the bar. “Jubilee!” the former Serpent greets as she walks up to the younger woman, gaining the attention of the rest of the room. Joaquin and Fangs both stiffen, but Jubilee doesn’t react. “It’s good to see you again,” Penny continues, voice dripping with faux cheer. “I was so sorry to hear about Sweet Pea.” She’s smiling while she says it.

Jubilee scoffs, returning the smile with her own tight-lipped one. “I’m sure you were, Penny.”

Her smile wavers just the slightest, Jubilee not giving her the reaction she wants. “I suppose I should offer my condolences,” Penny says, and Jubilee rolls her eyes, turning away. Penny just keeps talking, switching tactics. “I’m sorry you had to watch that. Ezekiel can get messy sometimes. Over excited. You know how boys can be.”

It’s so off-handed, but it hits Jubilee right in the chest. Tears burn at the backs of her eyes, pregnancy hormones setting her off.

Fangs takes a threatening step towards her, one hand clenched into a fist. “Fuck off, Peabody,” he snaps. The other Ghoulies look over at them, amused.

Penny’s expression shifts to one of sheer delight at Fangs comment. Smile too big. Too bright. And Jubilee stiffens, knowing they’ve made a mistake somehow. “So is the baby Sweet Pea’s? Or did you move on to Fogarty that quickly?” Penny asks her suddenly. The rest of the room goes quiet.

Joaquin inhales sharply on her left and Jubilee winces. This wasn’t how she wanted people to know. She doesn’t bother wondering how Penny knows, the woman has eyes all over Riverdale.

“Jubilee?” her gaze flicks to Jughead as he stands from his spot at the table. He glances between her eyes and stomach rapidly, expression a mix of shock and hurt that she didn’t tell him before. “You…” He can’t finish, mouth moving but nothing coming out. Behind him, FP stares at her, absolutely horrified, and Jubilee’s eyes snap back to Penny, jaw clenched.

For a long moment, Jubilee just stares at the former Serpent. She hasn’t forgotten the blackthorn. Penny worships the Old Religion just like Jubilee and her mother, and she knows exactly what the plant means. Bad luck. Misfortune. Struggle. Strife. Penny knows exactly what she did, offering it to Jubilee like that. Not quite a curse, but close enough.

“Martinez.” Malachai glances at her as Jubilee speaks, voice low and even. His head cocks to the side, waiting for her to continue. “Get Penny out of my face before I kill her.” Jubilee means good on the threat and they know it too. And Jubilee thinks she could get away with it, not that Penny shared her little secret. The Ghoulies may not have much respect for women, but they aren’t complete monsters. Not anymore.

Malachai is quiet for a minute, just staring at her, but then his gaze shifts. “Peabody,” he starts lowly, cutting off when Penny grins and slinks back to his side without another word.

Jubilee leans back against the bar, eyes squeezing shut, the weight of FP’s gaze still heavy on the side of her face. Fangs shoulder brushes against hers, a silent comfort, and she takes a shaky breath. Her hands shake and she clenches them into fists, feeling the Ghoulies watching her.

She doesn’t pay attention to most of the talk, the Ghoulies and Serpents passing around the blame, making accusations about who started what. The Serpents drew first blood in defense of a Serpent Adjacent. The Ghoulies attacked unprovoked. A breach in territory. Usually, Jubilee would be more involved with the politics of it. FP and Jughead have never been diplomatic enough for it. But with another migraine building she tunes it out, leaning into Fangs just the slightest.

“I can’t give you my brother,” Malachai says suddenly, gaining Jubilee’s attention once more. “You know that.” The Ghoulie King looks between FP and Jughead, something indecipherable there.

FP leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “That’s not why I wanted a meeting, Martinez.” He wets his lips, glancing sideways at Dutch, who nods just the slightest. FP straightens in his seat, making himself look taller. “I wanna make a deal with you. No more blood.” FP sighs. “We have bigger problems than each other right now.”

Jubilee’s stomach drops. “What?” she chokes out, head snapping around towards her father. Fangs and Joaquin have gone still on either side of her, and Fangs swears under his breath.

Jughead also turns to their father, eyes wide. Clearly, FP hadn’t mentioned this to him either. “Dad?” He exchanges a look with Jubilee for half a second before turning back to the Serpent King.

FP doesn’t look at either of them, gaze still on Malachai, who seems just as taken aback, though far more pleased. “Joaquin,” FP barks, gesturing with his chin towards the upper level of the bar. “Take her up to the office.” Jubilee clenches her jaw, raw anger flaring inside her. A protest dies on her lips as FP snarls out a “now!” when Joaquin hesitates.

He pulls her upstairs without a word.

 

 

 

Jubilee paces the length of the office for what seems like hours as she waits for the meeting to be over, agitation growing with each pass she makes. Joaquin watches her from his place in front of the door, blocking her way out, eyes apologetic. Jubilee isn’t mad, at least not at him. Joaquin had as much choice in the matter as she did. He can’t disobey the Serpent King, especially not in front of the Ghoulies like that. Such blatant disrespect would only make them look weak.

They don’t talk as they wait, their nerves on end.

The sound of footsteps pounding against the stairs makes Jubilee pause in her pacing, turning to the door. The door to the office is pushed open, and she sneers when she sees her father standing in the entryway. “Get out,” FP tells Joaquin without once looking away from her. Joaquin follows his gaze, looking at Jubilee questioningly, but she only purses her lips, nodding for him to go.

It’s only after the door clicks shut behind him that FP softens. He crosses the room quickly, reaching for her. “Jubilee.”

“Don’t,” she snarls, stepping out of his reach and glaring. “Don’t fucking touch me right now!” She can’t believe him right now, making peace with the Ghoulies after what they did to Sweet Pea—to  _her_.

He stops, leaving a few feet of space between them, expression remorseful, and she scoffs, turning away from him. “You’re pregnant,” he finally says, so quiet she barely hears him. Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, arms crossing over her stomach. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. She wouldn’t have reacted to Penny like that if she wasn’t. “Is it Sweet Pea’s?”

She shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder, half turning to face him. “Of course it’s fucking his,” she spits, insulted that he would think otherwise. FP winces, shame in his eyes and she knows he didn’t mean it like that, he’s just surprised, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. “You made a deal with the Ghoulies.”

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “We can’t have more blood right now,” he explains to her. “Not with the Wolves moving in. We pick a fight with the Ghoulies and more people get hurt.” FP takes another step towards her, expression softening just the slightest when he sees the tears burning at her eyes. “Malachai won’t just give up Ezekiel that easily.”

“They beat him to death.” FP’s jaw clenches at the reminder, his eyes squeezing shut. “Ezekiel forced him onto his knees and didn’t stop beating him even after he was already dead. Then, he spit on him.” Jubilee takes a single step towards him, glaring up at her father. “Sweet Pea didn’t have a  _chance_. And you’re just going to let that go?”

“Jubilee—”

“What if it was me?” she asks him, gaze cutting through him right down to the bone. Jubilee settles back against the wall, arms crossing over her chest. “What if they killed me? Would you do something about it then or would you still be acting like a coward?”

FP rounds on her. “You’re my daughter,” he snaps at her, voice strained. There’s a flash of anger in his eyes.

“And he was going to be your  _son_ ,” Jubilee reminds him.

He has the decency to look ashamed. “Sweetheart, I—”

Jubilee shoves past him before he can finish.

* * *

 

“You know I don’t need a babysitter,” she says breezily. Joaquin looks up at her from the couch, tensing at the look in her eyes. His jaw twitches, but he feigns confusion, and Jubilee sighs, tired of them going around in circles like this. Things have been tense since her talk with Jughead, since they made the deal with the Ghoulies. “You and Fangs are hovering.” Jubilee uncurls herself from the chair, leaning towards him as she places her book on the table beside her chair.

Joaquin sits up slowly, wetting his lips as he shifts to face her directly. “We just want to make sure you’re—” He cuts off just as quickly, mouth snapping shut and she scoffs.

Swallowing, she looks down at her hands, fingers curling into loose fists. “Well, it’s starting to get on my nerves,” she tells him, fighting the shakiness of her voice, adding more bite than she means. Joaquin flinches just the slightest and she winces, a seed of guilt pooling in her gut.

He only sighs, rubbing the back of his head in frustrating. “Look,” he starts again, softer this time, placating, “we care about you.”

“Save it, Joaquin.” Jubilee stands, not sparing him a look as she takes off towards the kitchen. It’s not a conversation she wants to have, not now. She doesn’t want to hear that they think she’s spiraling, that she’s depressed, because they just don’t  _get_  it. Because it’s different for her, for someone who practices the Old Religion. Because she didn’t just lose her best friend; she lost her heart, too.

He’s on her heels. “You’ve said some things—”

She barks out a laugh. “And there it is.” She whirls on him, leveling Joaquin with the nastiest look she can manage, stopping him in place. “Maybe next time just lead with that.” Her patience has worn thin lately, temper riding the knife’s edge between a slow burn and an explosion, building and building with nowhere else to go.

He takes a deep breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he turns his back on her. Joaquin circles back around to face her. “Jubilee, you told Jughead you wished the Ghoulies had killed you,” he reminds her, voice wavering, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “That’s not—”

“I know!” she snaps. Jubilee runs her hands over her face, letting out a humorless laugh before dropping her hands and glaring back at him. “Jesus, Joaquin you think I don’t know how fucked up that is? How awful that sounds?” Her fingers rake through her messy hair. Joaquin takes a step towards her, but she backs away, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “We were together for seven goddamn years and now he’s just  _gone_  and I’m pregnant and I don’t—” she shakes her head, sending Joaquin a half-hearted shrug and stumbling over the words. “I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Joaquin is quiet for a long time, and Jubilee turns away from him, beginning to pace, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. She’s tired of the pity. It’s been weeks since they buried him but she still feels stuck in place, everything around her moving too quickly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shoves her hair away from her face, fingers catching in the tangled knots she hasn’t taken care of. Jubilee drops her hand with a frustrated huff, angry tears building behind her eyes.

“Come with me.” She stills halfway across the room and half-turns to glance at him over her shoulder. His gaze is hard, jaw set, and Jubilee sighs, knowing he won’t leave unless she goes too. It reminds her of the look Sweet Pea always had, the determination she always loved in him, and it makes her soften, shoulders slumping.

Jubilee sighs, expression tired. “Joaquin…” she starts, voice trailing off into nothing as he crosses the room and comes to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Come with me?” he asks again, voice softening as he ducks his head down to meet her eyes. “Just for an hour, please?” He squeezes her arms and she opens her mouth to speak, but Joaquin continues before she can say anything. “And after that if you want to come home, I’ll take you home, I promise. You just need to get out of here for a little while.”

Sighing, she wraps her arms around her middle, the sincerity in his eyes making her falter. “Okay.”

 

 

 

Joaquin drives in silence, occasionally glancing at her from the corner of his eye, as if expecting her to disappear. Ignoring the looks, Jubilee leans her head against the window, glass so cold it burns against her skin. is fingers tap against the steering wheel, a steady beat, and she allows her eyes to slip shut, not knowing where he’s taking her but simply deciding to trust him. Joaquin has never lead her astray in all the time she’s known him, and he wouldn’t start now.

Jubilee’s palm presses to the flat of her belly, fingers drumming against her side as her stomach churns. Morning sickness or nerves she isn’t sure.

They aren’t in the truck for long before Joaquin takes a turn out of Riverdale, the forest surrounding them as he drives towards Sweetwater River. Jubilee stays silent, watching the trees pass by them in a blur. It isn’t long, until they reach the bridge overlooking the river. With narrowed eyes, Jubilee stares at the other car parked on the bridge, frown twisting at her mouth. She doesn’t recognize the figures standing outside the car, but Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to leave the car, not saying a word as he circles around to her side of the truck.

Jubilee unbuckles herself, popping open the door, but doesn’t move to leave until Joaquin reaches for her, taking her by the hand. “Trust me?” he asks, and she’s known him too long not to, so she nods and lets him tug her from the truck, helping her down. Jubilee sends him a small, apologetic look, but he only smiles, curling an arm around her, and she knows they’re okay.

The figures become less hazy as they get closer, and Jubilee recognizes Joaquin’s boyfriend, Kevin, alongside—

“Moose?” she murmurs, frowning in confusion as Joaquin urges her another step forward with the hand pressed protectively against her back, her steps faltering when she sees the former Bulldog, someone she hasn’t spoken to since they were in high school together.

He sends her a slow smile, shifting slightly beside Kevin, who exchanges a meaningful look with Joaquin. “Hey, Jubilee,” Moose greets quietly.

Her gaze slides away from his, stomach flipping again. She glances up at her companion, frown twisting at her lips. “Joaquin, what…” she starts, only to trail off as her eyes drift back to Moose. She realizes what’s happening even before Joaquin leans down to whisper in her ear, turning her to face him.

“You need to talk to someone who understands,” he murmurs, hand dropping from her back as he takes a small step away from her. A part of her wants to argue, but she knows he’s right. She needs to talk about what happened that night, how it lingers. Fangs and Joaquin and her family, they can all listen, but they don’t know how to talk to her about it, not entirely. Jubilee nods absentmindedly, and Joaquin’s fingers curl around her shoulder. “Call me when you’re ready,” he tells her. “I’ll be here.”

Jubilee hesitates before taking a step away from him, feeling suddenly smaller without Joaquin hovering behind her, and she glances back at him once to make sure he’s still there before turning to Moose. She’s never really spoken to him before, not about anything important. He’s always just been Moose, a friend of Kevin and Reggie, who she only knows through their relationships with those around them. She wouldn’t consider Moose a friend by any stretch, hardly an acquaintance at that.

He’s just some stranger that might be better able to understand her than the people she’s known her entire life.

Kevin leaves Moose’s side, sending her a brief look as he slips past her, but says nothing as he heads to Joaquin’s side. The couple doesn’t go far, Kevin’s hand slipping through Joaquin’s as they turn and head back down the way they came, leaving the bridge and wandering down towards the water. Jubilee follows them with her eyes until they disappear, then turns back to Moose, who hasn’t moved to come closer to her.

Slowly, she forces herself to move, and Moose turns away from her, instead looking out at the water as she moves to his side, arms tight around herself as the wind picks up, tossing her dark hair around her face. Jubilee sighs, eyes slipping shut as the breeze curls around them, the pine scent of the forest causing the tension to drain from her shoulders.

Neither of them speak for a long time as they look at the river.

“Congratulations,” Moose says, startling her out of her thoughts. Jubilee pulls her gaze from the swirling water back to him, and he gestures with one hand to her stomach, a slight grin on his face.

She tries to return the smile but it falls flat. “Word spreads fast.” She can’t say she’s surprised. The news is all over the Southside by now, after the meeting between the Serpents and Ghoulies. It was only a matter of time before the news spread North. No one can keep a secret for long in Riverdale, and with Sweet Pea’s death so recent, so soon after their engagement, Jubilee’s been just one more part of the town’s talk, no matter how much she hates it.

Moose hums faintly. “More like Kevin can’t keep his mouth shut.” It cracks a grin from her, though it doesn’t stay long. Kevin’s always been the biggest gossip she’s ever known, especially when he’s excited. He’s been around more than usual lately, an extension of Joaquin keeping close, she hasn’t minded much. Kevin is good-natured, different from the Southsiders she grew up around. He keeps her mind off things.

When she doesn’t say anything, Moose continues, racing his forearms against the railing on the side of the bridge. “How far along?”

“A couple weeks,” she tells him, dimly aware of voices coming from below the bridge, Joaquin and Kevin keeping close. Jubilee takes a deep breath, the cold air a shock in her lungs. “I didn’t know until…” She shrugs, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as she glances over the guardrail, just barely able to see her reflection in the water.

He only nods, empathy flickering in his eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to…” he trails off as well, unable to say the word, and it chokes her as well.

“Doesn’t matter,” she tells him honestly, and a wall breaks down between them. Jubilee loosens her grip around herself, turning to Moose and offering him a ghost of a smile.

They don’t talk about Sweet Pea. Or Midge. Or the broken pieces of themselves that were lost with them. Instead they fill the silence with mindless chat, about anything and everything else, and slowly she begins to relax, snorting when Moose tells her about the things he and Reggie used to get into back in high school. And Jubilee smiles, leaning forward against the bridge and looking out over the water, half-frozen, thawing with the coming spring. She never imagined herself here, standing on the same bridge where the Serpents and Red Circle had their rumble so many years ago, talking with Moose Mason of all people.

Jubilee never would have thought they’d have anything in common, especially not like this.

“Does it ever get better?” she asks him quietly, watching the water stir below. Her stomach lurches with the river, and her fingers find the slight curve of her belly, still hardly noticeable beneath the flannel she must have stolen from Sweet Pea years ago, colors faded and fabric frayed, though his scent still clings to it, wrapping around her like a blanket.

Moose is quiet for a long time as he rests his forearms against the side of the bridge. “I don’t know,” he finally tells her, gaze shifting from the river over to her. Jubilee worries her lip, arms curling around herself. Moose sighs through his nose, closing his eyes as a breeze curls around them. “I don’t know.”

* * *

 

She calms after her conversation with Moose. The ache in her chest doesn’t disappear, doesn’t hurt less, but it doesn’t need to. She’s not okay, maybe she never will be, but she’s better. She can breathe again. She doesn’t flinch when people say his name anymore, even if she can’t bring herself to say it most days.

A slow exhale slips from her, Jubilee curling up tighter on her bed, eyes slipping shut. Hot Dog rests his head over her thigh, tail thumping against the mattress as she plays with his ears, enjoying the silence. After her talk with Moose her friends have become more lax about leaving her alone, even if it isn’t for long. Someone pops in everyday to check how she’s doing, make sure she’s eating okay.

Fangs has taken it upon himself to track her pregnancy, keeping her up to date on things. Jubilee is sitting at just about seven weeks right now and still can’t quite believe it. Her free hand settles over her stomach, a low hum slipping from her.

Jubilee lies there with Hot Dog for a while, dozing until the dog perks up his head. His tail wags wildly and Jubilee cracks open an eye, hearing the front door shut with a soft click. Hot Dog doesn’t move from the bed or bark, so Jubilee puts her head back down.

She only looks up again when there’s a soft, almost hesitant knock on the door. Jubilee sits up in a rush when she sees who it is, her stomach flipping at the sudden shift. “Dad,” she murmurs after a moment, surprised to see him there. They haven’t spoken since their fight at the Wyrm. Jubilee hasn’t been back there since, and FP has been keeping his distance, giving her time.

FP doesn’t move from the doorway, staring at her for a minute as she sits up, folding her legs beneath her. He clears his throat, gauging her reaction as he steps further into the room. “I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, Sweetheart,” he says softly, getting straight to the point. “But I had to do what was best for the Serpents. So no one else gets hurt.”

Her gaze drops to her lap, teeth worrying her lip. She wants to say that she knows, that she understands, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and she doesn’t say anything.

He must not expect her to, expression soft as he crosses the short space between them, crouching in front of her so that she’ll meet his eyes. He reaches up, thumb swiping across her cheek as a tear slips out. “I thought you might like to talk to someone.” He nods towards the door.

Following the movement, Jubilee stills when she sees someone unexpected.

Gladys Jones smiles at her from the doorway. “Hey there, Baby.”

Jubilee sucks in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. “Mom?”

 

 

 

FP presses a quick kiss to her temple before leaving her with her mother, and Jubilee isn’t sure what to make of Gladys’ sudden appearance. She hasn’t seen her mother for months, not since the festival back in October, before she gave sweet Pea her heart. Gladys has always been unpredictable that way, coming in and out without so much as a word, and Jubilee would be angry if she didn’t understand why.

They talk about everything. Every detail of the last month. Jubilee lets it all spill out. And Gladys listens, sitting on the bed beside her, Hot Dog between them. She takes one of Jubilee’s hands in hers, thumb swiping across her knuckles soothingly. As Jubilee tapers off, Gladys flips her hand so her palm is facing upwards, tracing the lines on her hand absentmindedly.

She stills when her finger touches the scar on her palm. “Jubilee,” she murmurs, voice shaky, “what’s this?”

Jubilee looks up, rubbing between Hot Dog’s ears gently. She frowns at her mother’s tone, glancing down at the scar as well. It’s healed well in the last two months, just a pale sliver of skin. “The Blood Moon,” she murmurs, shrugging. “The tribute.” Gladys sucks in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know another way.” A fond smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as Jubilee brushes her hair away from her eyes. “He surprised me, you know. I didn’t think he would do it too. Sweets never liked the rituals in the woods. He never said it, but I think it scared him, sometimes.” She smiles at her mother, though it freezes on her face when she sees the troubled look in her eyes. “What?”

“Jubilee, do you know what you did?” Gladys asks her slowly, the words shaky. When Jubilee only frowns she sucks in a sharp breath. “You and Sweet Pea made a blood oath,” she explains. “You spilled blood together beneath the eclipse. You  _promised_  blood for blood. It’s carnal, binding.”

“What are you talking about?” Jubilee turns to face her mother more directly and Gladys’ clings to her hand, holding her tight.

She releases Jubilee’s hand, cupping her face gently, making sure to look her in the eyes. “There’s power in the Blood Moon, sweet girl,” she tells her, barely above a whisper, like it’s a secret. It very well my be. “It’s effects linger. Jubilee, you both shed blood for the Old Gods. That’s not something they so easily forget.” Gladys twists around suddenly, glancing out the window before turning back to Jubilee. “The March moon, do you know what it’s called?”

“The Worm Moon,” Jubilee answers automatically, staring at her mother in confusion. “But what does that—”

“Why do they call it that?”

Jubilee shakes her head, not sure what her mother is getting at with these questions. “Because it’s the last full moon before spring. The worm’s are crawling out of the earth. Waking up.” Jubilee’s breath catches, the realization hitting her. “It’s the moon of rebirth.”


	4. Interlude Two

_{wasteland, baby! i'm in love, i'm in love with you}_

The tension in the room chokes them both, the weight of the approaching moon hanging heavy over them both, a looming threat.

Jubilee runs a hand through her dark hair, chewing the inside of her cheek as she watches him pace the room, his agitation growing with each pass. Shifting, she crosses her legs beneath her, fingers drumming against the floor. “Look, I know you don’t believe in it, but—”

“That’s not it,” Sweet Pea says, quick to cut her off as he stills. She scoffs, rolling her eyes, and he takes a step towards her. Jubilee bites her tongue, bristling at the look in his eyes, and he stops. “That’s not it,” he repeats, firmer this time, more sure. She sends him a look, gaze expectant, and he sighs. “I just…” He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut briefly. “Blood sacrifice,” Sweet Pea finally blurts out.

“Is a very small part of it,” Jubilee reminds him lowly, dark eyes locking with his as she disentangles her legs, rising to her feet. She crosses the short distance between them quickly, taking his hand in hers and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Most don’t practice it.” The word  _anymore_  sticks in her throat and she chokes it back. “Dealing in blood is… It’s frowned upon.”

And that’s the root of it. Sweet Pea has always ignored most of her practices with the Old Religion, respecting them, but never participating. He tends to wait on the cusp. Watching. Never involving himself directly. He’s always been careful that way, keeping himself on the fringe. There used to be a shadow hanging over Riverdale when they were teenagers and it left people mistrustful of the Old Gods of the forest.

It’s been years since their was a blood sacrifice in Riverdale, almost a decade since Clifford Blossom murdered his own son to summon the beast lurking in the woods. But Clifford Blossom wasn’t a practitioner of the Old Religion. He only used their name to justify his crimes. And he was condemned for it, swallowed up by the Old Gods and punished. The last true sacrifice in Riverdale must have been over two decades ago, back when Jubilee was only a child. And even then it was considered a taboo.

Blood magic is something powerful. Raw. It’s not something to be tampered with, not when the consequences can be so brutal.

Sweet Pea lets her run her fingers up his arms and around his shoulders. A shiver wracks down his spine as Jubilee pulls him down to her, the tips of her fingers tracing circles between his shoulder blades. “Does your mother?” he questions, quieter than before, voice low and thick with something that’s almost contempt. One of his big hands settles against her side as he leans into her, drawing her close. There’s a question that never follows but still lingers between them, and it makes her stomach twist into knots.

_Do you?_

Jubilee ignores the second question, heart squeezing in her chest, and instead thinks on the first. She takes her lip between her teeth, worrying it as her gaze shifts just past his shoulder. Sweet Pea’s eyes linger on her, seeking an answer she isn’t sure she has. “I think she did,” Jubilee says slowly, the affirmation bitter on her tongue. “But not anymore.” Her eyes snap back to his as he tenses, hand squeezing her hip. “Not like that.”

He slips from her grip and she sighs, arms folding around herself as he takes a step back, staring down at his hands. “But she did,” he clarifies, shaking his head when she nods hesitantly. “Christ, Jubilee. Your mom—”

“It was a long time ago, Sweet Pea. And I’m not even sure she did, okay? I know the same rumors you do. That’s it.” A seed of anger grows in her chest, her jaw clenching. Eventually, she sighs, running a tired hand over the side of her face. “Riverdale… it used to be darker. The forest used to be…” Jubilee hesitates to finish, searching for the right word. “Insatiable,” she finally settles on, the word heavy on her tongue.

There’s always been something hungry in Fox Forest. Something loud and unquenchable. It hasn’t stirred in years, but she can still feel it there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Jubilee’s nails bite into her arm as a chill worms down her spine.

Sweet Pea stills. He glances back at her over his shoulder, jaw clenching tightly at the heavy look in her eyes. Slowly, he turns to face her, and his expression is more serious than she’s ever seen him before. “And what is it now?”

The distance between them doesn’t shrink, but it doesn’t grow either. Jubilee swallows, unable to find the right word.

“Asleep,” she finally tells him.

 

 

 

It’s later, after the Blood Moon has disappeared and their hands have stopped shaking that Jubilee can breathe again. The raw energy of the full moon has fizzled out, that electric energy finally settling into a dull hum. Her hand still throbs where the knife sliced into her palm, the cut now carefully wrapped. It mirrors the one on his own hand, and her heart squeezes in her chest as she thinks about what he did. Offering blood to the forest is a sacred thing. Sweet Pea knows it just as well as she does, but he did it anyway.

Shifting, she curls tight against Sweet Pea’s side on the bed, one arm tossed lazily across his bare chest. His fingers work in lazy circles against her back, tracing the curve of her spine and making her shiver. They’re still slick with blood and sweat but it’s the most calm Jubilee’s felt in days.

Her fingers stroke along his side absentmindedly, a content hum slipping from her as she tucks her head against his chest, eyes half-lidded, exhaustion clinging to her. Jubilee rises and falls with Sweet Pea’s chest, his breath stirring her hair. Her fingers find the bandage curled around his hand and she traces the edge of it. A frown twists her mouth at the blood staining his fingertips.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmurs, slipping her fingers through his. Jubilee presses a kiss just over his heart, the steady beat of it making her relax back into him. Sweet Pea’s hand stills against her naked back. “I know you didn’t want to be involved.”

He shifts just enough to peer down at her, palm settling low on her back, tickling her skin just above the blankets. Sweet Pea murmurs her name, coaxing her to look up at him. Eventually, her gaze shifts up to meet his. Sweet Pea’s eyes are soft when they meets hers. “It’s you and me, Baby,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to her temple.

Sweet Pea tucks her back beneath his chin, arm tight around her waist, and she nestles against him, eyes fluttering shut. He nuzzles her hair, breathing in the scent of roses and rainwater that clings to her. Jubilee’s lips move against his collarbone, leaving butterfly kisses on his skin.

“What is it now?” he asks her suddenly, voice cutting through the silence. She frowns, tilting her chin to glance up at him. Sweet Pea’s gaze is far away for a moment, on the ceiling, but he turns back to her, an emotion she can’t pinpoint swirling in his dark eyes. His fingers curl tight around her hip. “You said the forest was asleep,” Sweet Pea reminds her gently. “What is it now?”

A chill sweeps through her. Jubilee’s stomach flips at the mention of Fox Forest and the pleasant glow around them dims. She doesn’t answer him for a long time, worrying her lip between her teeth as she tangles her legs with his.

Fox Forest is beginning to stir from its long sleep.

“I don’t know,” she whispers back.


	5. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6bUbgQXcS5iyznAkuJMnXJ

_{ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves?}_

There’s a reason for the coiled serpents on their backs. The Ouroboros. A snake that eats its own tail. Self-devourer. In the old Norse myths it appears as the serpent Jörmungandr, which grew so monstrously large it could encircle the world and grasp its tail between its teeth. It means unity. Completion. And in the old ways it means immortality. An eternal return. The continuous renewal of birth and death so many struggle to break free from.

It’s hard to keep a snake from coming back.

Jubilee’s hands shake as she watches her mother. The other woman avoids her gaze, still watching the moon from outside the window, a waxing crescent not even half full. Gladys slides from the bed, shaking her head and Jubilee stands slowly. “Are you saying there’s a way to bring him back?” Again, she’s ignored, and Jubilee’s throat grows tight. “Mom?”

It’s almost too much to process all at once. A blood-bond. The Old Gods. The Worm Moon. Rebirth. Sweet Pea might be able to come home. She can bring him back. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Her mother still hasn’t explained how it can work, still in awe over the blood oath and what that means for them. So few people are able to bind their blood—their  _souls_. So few are willing to try. It’s rare among those who practice the Old Religion. And the Old Gods aren’t ones to forget so easily.

When Gladys does glance at her she’s almost apologetic. She turns on her heel, mumbling something Jubilee can’t make out before suddenly throwing open the bedroom door and slipping down the hall.

“Mom!” Jubilee rushes after her, nearly tripping over Hot Dog as the dog leaps from the bed. She stumbles around the corner, on her mother’s heels as the woman heads for the front door. “Hey!” Jubilee shouts after her, reaching out and grabbing Gladys by the elbow, yanking her back around. “Mom, you don’t get to do this! You don’t get to just—”

“Jubilee?”

She cuts off abruptly, gaze snapping to the side and latching onto the concerned blue eyes of her younger sister. Jubilee’s breath catches in her throat as JB looks at her over the back of the couch, nestled into the space between Jughead and their father. It’s been too long since she’s seen the other girl, with both JB and their mother missing the funeral last month. JB called, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person.

FP rises slowly from the couch, brows knitting in concern. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” He glances between Jubilee and Gladys, the tension between them palpable. Jughead stands as well, skirting around the edge of the couch and taking a step towards her as Jubilee’s hands start to shake.

Her eyes flicker around wildly, unable to stay on any one of them for long. It’s still too much to process and a migraine is building in the back of her head, but she clings to that bit of hope. The Worm Moon. “Tell them,” she chokes out, a hard edge to her tone as she levels her mother with a harsh glare. “ _Tell them_.”

Hot Dog whines at the sharpness of her tone, and Jughead reaches for her, fingers curling around her wrist gently. “Gladys?” FP turns to his wife, confusion swirling in his gaze. JB’s gaze stays locked on Jubilee, and briefly she wonders just how much her sister might know.

Jellybean Jones has always had a way of knowing things she shouldn’t.

Gladys sighs, arm still firmly locked in Jubilee’s grip, though she makes no move to pull away. She looks at FP first, searching his gaze for something. After a moment she seems to find it and straightens slightly. She clears her throat. “There may be a way to bring Sweet Pea back,” she tells them, turning back to Jubilee, “by making a deal with the Old Gods.”

 

 

 

It doesn’t take long for the fighting to start. The Joneses have always been an argumentative bunch: quick to anger and too headstrong for their own goods. And FP and Gladys have always disagreed on matters surrounding the Old Religion. The fighting reached a peak when Jubilee was fourteen and wanted to learn about the Gods and the power rippling through Fox Forest and Sweetwater River. FP never wanted his children involved, but there was nothing he could do to stop them. He’s never quite trusted the Pagans in Riverdale, less so after Clifford Blossom and the blood sacrifice that he found himself involved in. But it’s been years since then, and he’s always respected the Old Gods. He knows how dangerous it can be not to.

They haven’t fought like this in a long time, absolutely vicious in the way they tear into each other, not since JB decided to follow the way of the Old Religion as well.

Jubilee fiddles with the leather jacket strewn across her lap, tracing the worn patch that’s been there for nearly as long as she can remember. The snake stares back at her, coiled tight and teeth bared, ready to lunge and suddenly she feels so, so alive. More alive than she’s been in weeks.

JB and Jughead are settled on either side of her on the couch, both rattled by Gladys’ claim.

The pain in Jubilee’s head grows and she tries to ignore it, but the shouting makes a dull ache spread through her entire skull.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gladys?” FP spits at his wife, who simply stares back at him, as collected as ever. “Telling her shit like this right now?” The rage in his expression is heavier than Jubilee has ever seen from his before. FP would get mean when he used to drink, and he would raise his voice, but never like this.

“I’m telling her things she needs to know,” Gladys responds lowly, voice even, “which is more than what you’ve done.” It’s a barbed insult, laced with venom, and FP’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

He shakes his head, sending her a grin that’s too tight with too much teeth. “Don’t,” he warns her. A humorless, disbelieving chuckle slips from him. “Don’t you fucking pin this on me.”

Gladys purses her lips, not wavering from her spot in the center of Jubilee’s living space even as FP begins to pace, too aggravated to stay still. She’s always been the collected one, too calm, too still. Her quiet has always been more unnerving than FP’s often explosive personality. Again, she considers her words, choosing each one carefully before reminding FP that, “she was under your care.”

FP flinches, something wounded flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. “And where the fuck were you? Huh, Gladys?” he asks her, voice suddenly low. He stops pacing, taking a single step towards her. “Where the fuck were you all this time?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “You know why I had to—”

He doesn’t let her finish. “She needed you!” FP snaps at her, gesturing wildly towards Jubilee, who tightens her grip on the jacket tossed over her lap. “I fucking needed you!”

Gladys spits something back but Jubilee closes her eyes, blocking it all out as she plays with a loose thread on the Serpent patch.

JB links her fingers through Jubilee’s, squeezing tightly. Her nails dig into the back of Jubilee’s hand as the arguing grows louder. It’s been so long since the Jones family was all together like this, and Jubilee almost forgot how bad the fighting could get at times. Jubilee and Jughead were used to it when they were younger. FP and Gladys always used to argue. About Serpent business. About the Old Gods. The Jones family has always been opinionated. FP followed his own morals and Gladys was a force to be reckoned with.

Jubilee stares down at Sweet Pea’s jacket on her lap, at the ring she hasn’t had the heart to take off. It would hurt too much. Being in this house just hurts too much.

She takes her lip between her teeth, biting down until she draws blood, the lick of pain making her wince. It’s a dangerous thing, making deals with the Old Gods, especially the ones lurking deep in Fox Forest. They can be kind, but they’re also tricksters, manipulators. They play games without rules.

Her stomach flips, churning sickly, and the palm of her free hand presses to her belly, fingers tracing light, soothing circles.

A frustrated sound spills from FP and Jubilee glances up at her father. He rakes a hand through his hair, turning his back on Gladys and staring out the window, the sky beginning to grow dark. He murmurs something she doesn’t catch, shaking his head. There’s a note of disbelief in his voice when he says, “you want to let our daughter make a deal with a trickster god.” A short, breathy laugh slips from him and FP runs a hand down the side of his face.

“It’s her choice,” Gladys reminds him, more gently than before.

FP turns around to glare at her. “She could die,” he spits back, and it’s the raw fear there that makes Jubilee squeeze her eyes shut tight. Her palm presses harder to her stomach as it churns.

“She already wants to.” Jubilee’s eyes snap open, her head jerking up, and she finds her mother already staring at her, something indescribable in her gaze. FP reels back at the words and Jughead sucks in a sharp breath at her side, his hands curling into fists on his lap. JB squeezes Jubilee’s hand tightly, clinging to her. “I want her to be happy,” Gladys says, looking at Jubilee for a moment longer before turning back to FP.

“You think I don’t?” he asks her. FP looks absolutely broken, standing there in her living room, a shell of the Serpent King she remembers. There’s guilt in his eyes, shame, and Jubilee is suddenly struck by the realization that he’s blamed himself for what happened this entire time. “You think I wanted this for her?”

Gladys sighs. “That’s not what I—”

“You think I wanted her to—”

“That’s not what I said!” she snaps at him again, irritation flaring in her eyes.

“Dammit, Gladys, what were you thinking telling her—”

“What do I have to do?” Jubilee cuts her father off. JB’s nails dig into the back of her hand and Jughead tenses at her side, but neither say a word. FP snaps around to look at her, eyes widening slightly. Jubilee’s jaw is set, a stubbornness to her features that’s been muted in recent weeks. They watch her, on edge, but Jubilee’s eyes are on Gladys, who won’t look at her. “What do I have to do?” she repeats, louder this time.

FP shakes his head, shoulders slumping as he takes a step towards her. “Jubilee…” Whatever he was going to say trails off as her eyes meet his, wet and bright. The look she sends him is more hopeful than anyone has seen in weeks, pushing past the defeat that’s been clinging to her for the last month. It’s so much more alive and he has to turn away

Jubilee’s fingers slide away from Jellybean’s, her lips pursing. “If there’s a way to bring him back…” She turns back to Gladys, expression steely. “Mom, tell me what I have to do.”

Gladys keeps her gaze on FP for a long time, silent as Jubilee stares. Eventually, she sighs. “It won’t be easy,” she warns, finally looking at Jubilee.

Jubilee shakes her head. “I don’t care.” Gladys stares at her, searching her eyes, and Jubilee stares right back. Now that she knows there’s a chance that she can bring him back, however slim, she has to take it, with or without her mother’s help.

Finally, Gladys’ eyes soften just the slightest. She takes a step towards Jubilee, reaching for her. Jubilee stands from her spot between Jughead and JB, Sweet Pea’s jacket still clenched in one fist. Her eyes slip shut briefly when Gladys cups her cheeks, fingers cold as she brushes Jubilee’s hair away from her face. She sighs again, tilting Jubilee’s chin to meet her eyes.

“Give me one night,” Gladys whispers, thumb stroking her cheek. Jubilee frowns, opening her mouth to argue, but Gladys hushes her before she can speak. “There’s someone I need to speak to.” Gladys leans in to kiss Jubilee’s forehead, lingers for a moment.

She’s gone just as quickly, slipping out the door like some wraith. And Jubilee knows she’s gone to see Thomas Topaz.

* * *

 

In the morning there are thorns laying across the pillow where Sweet Pea used to sleep, not scattered like they should be but aligned in a perfect circle, like a crown. It’s a symbol of the full moon, an omen or perhaps a warning, Jubilee doesn’t know, but it makes her sick seeing them there. She considers throwing them away, breaking the circle, but she doesn’t dare to touch it.

Instead, she ignores it, goes about her business. She walks Hot Dog and works at the flower shop and spends several hours talking with Jughead and JB, catching up on the things they’ve missed. JB tells her about high school and Toledo and Jubilee talks about Sweet Pea and her pregnancy and all the plans they made together. It’s hard, talking about it, but she feels lighter after, better. And there’s hope there that maybe they can still have that future together.

When she returns home the thorns are gone.

Jubilee doesn’t question it. It’s easier not to. She doesn’t know what it meant and a part of her doesn’t want to know, but she resolves to ask her mother later in the night. If anyone knows what it meant it would be her mother. Or Thomas Topaz.

She knows little about the man, only that he’s Toni’s grandfather and that he has a connection to the forest much like her mother. He’s not a Pagan, not in the same way that Jubilee and Gladys are anyway, but there’s something special about him. He’s the kind of person that makes others nervous because they know too much. Despite that she’s always trusted the man, and he’s always been kind to her.

After Sweet Pea’s funeral, at the Wyrm, he took both her hands in his and murmured something in an old tongue she didn’t recognize. He kissed her brow and told her to have courage. She didn’t understand it then, maybe she still doesn’t, but courage is the one thing she’ll need during the Worm Moon.

 

 

 

By the time her mother returns it’s dark, close to midnight, and the moon is shining in through the window at the front of the trailer, the curtains drawn open wide to let the light in. Jubilee is sitting at the counter in the kitchen, a glass of water in front of her and one of whiskey across the counter. Gladys doesn’t say a word as she slips in through the front door, letting it close softly behind her and shedding her coat. Hot Dog runs up to greet her, tail wagging and Gladys runs her hand through the old sheepdog’s fur, scratching between his ears.

When she finally settles on the other side of the counter Jubilee leans back on her stool, bare feet brushing against Hot Dog’s back as he lies beneath her.

“Why did you go to see Thomas?” she asks her mother, fingers tapping against the countertop. Jubilee glances up at Gladys, watching as she lifts her glass, swirling the contents absentmindedly.

She’s quiet for a while, contemplating an answer before taking a drink. “To find out if anyone has done something like this before,” she answers eventually, frowning down at the glass.

Jubilee nods slowly, accepting the answer. If anyone would know it would be Thomas. He’s been in Riverdale since he was a child, and his family even longer than that, since before Riverdale was even settled. “And have they?” Jubilee’s eyes slide to the window, her skin crawling as it stares back. She rips her eyes away. “Has anyone ever tried something like this in Riverdale?”

Gladys shakes her head, downing more whiskey. “Not recently,” she murmurs, setting down her glass. She crosses her arms, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the counter. “Jubilee, you have to know this is taboo, even for us.” It’s a gentle reminder. There are lines they shouldn’t cross—that they  _can’t_ cross. “Bringing someone back it’s…” She trails off, shaking her head.

Chewing her lip, Jubilee closes her eyes. A part of her thinks she doesn’t care. It’s Sweet Pea. If it means saving him she would do anything. But the larger part, the rational part, knows she needs to be cautious. “And did you learn anything?”

“Rumors mostly,” Gladys tells her, tracing the rim of her drink with a finger. “But Thomas’s grandfather…” She looks at Jubilee pointedly, waiting for her to finish.

“He brought someone back?” Jubilee frowns, burying her toes in Hot Dog’s fur. She never would have expected that from any of the Thomas Topaz or his family. They’ve always been respected on the Southside of Riverdale, especially among the practitioners of the Old Religion, but have stayed on the cusp of it. Thomas especially tends not to involve himself in certain matters.

“Supposedly,” Gladys corrects, pursing her lips. “But this was years ago, back when Fox Forest was awake.” Her lip curls back, her eyes narrowing. None of them like thinking about that time, back when Riverdale was more wild, more dangerous. Back then sacrifices were more popular, a dark thrum of power settled beneath the soil. There was a time when a blood cult existed in Riverdale and people practiced the black arts. “It was put to sleep for a reason,” Gladys continues, looking at Jubilee. “Some of the deep magic… it was too much, too powerful.” Her gaze shifts to the window. “Clifford Blossom almost woke it.”

Jubilee stares down at her glass. “Clifford Blossom wanted power,” she reminds Gladys.

Gladys hums. “He did.” She takes another drink from her glass of whiskey, swirling the rest of it. “He almost unleashed a monster. It would have ripped through Riverdale and razed it to the ground.” Her shoulders slump with a sigh. “We were lucky to stop it in time.”

A shiver wracks her as she thinks about that time.

“Did Thomas say anything else?” she asks instead of dwelling on it, feeling queasy at the thought of Clifford and Jason Blossom and the darkness that nearly overtook the town. When Gladys shakes her head Jubilee decides to get to the point of things. “How does it work? People don’t just come back from the dead.”

Gladys hums her agreement. “No, they don’t.” She shifts, leaning back in her seat. “Normally this wouldn’t be possible, but the Worm Moon is…” she trails off, searching for the right word. “It’s powerful,” Gladys finally settles on.

Jubilee snorts. Every moon is powerful in Riverdale, some more so than others. The full moons are always a strange time in this town, the residual magic from Clifford Blossom’s mess bubbling up with nowhere to go. “As powerful as the Blood Moon?”

“Not usually.” Gladys finishes off her glass and rolls it between her fingers. “The Blood Moon, it’s darker,” she tells Jubilee. Her head cocks to the side as Jubilee wraps her arms around herself, fiddling with the sleeves of her over-sized sweater. “You felt it didn’t you?”

She nods, pressing her palm against the side of her stomach. That static feeling from back in January, when all of this began, comes back to her. “There was something in the air,” she recalls. “Like electricity. It only stopped after we…” Jubilee closes her eyes as the sensations come back to her: his lips moving against hers, the hands on her hips, a shaky breath against her throat.

Her throat closes up at the memory of his touch. The hollow ache in her chest grows bigger.

“You quelled it with Sweet Pea when you bled for it,” Gladys explains, fingers drumming against the side of her glass. She sighs through her nose and her fingers go still. “Fox Forest has always been hungry. A damn greedy  _bastard_.” Jubilee glances at her, tensing at her mother’s words. Gladys meets Jubilee’s gaze, tracing the rim of her glass with one finger. “But that’s not what you want to know,” she notes, drawing an old symbol of protection against the side of her drink.

Jubilee leans forward, bracing her elbows against the counter. “How can I bring him back?” It doesn’t make sense to her. If the Worm Moon had that kind of power… “Wouldn’t more people have done that if it was possible?”

Gladys leans back, fingers tapping against the countertop in a rhythmic pattern. “It’s a very rare thing, Jubilee,” she explains, suddenly looking tired. “There are too many things involved with bringing someone back properly.”

Wincing, Jubilee curls her fingers into the loose fabric of her sweater. She’s heard the stories. People brought back with no souls, empty husks of what they were, nothing more than a puppet. Necromancy is the one thing the Riverdale Pagans have never dared to play with.

She mulls over her mother’s words, the rarity of bringing souls home intact. “You mean the bond?” Jubilee glances down at her lap, facing her palm upwards to see the thin scar on her palm. Even now she can still feel it ache at times, a phantom pain tying them together.

A blood-bond.

“That,” Gladys agrees, nodding slowly, “and this is only the second full moon since he died.” She snorts, ceasing her tapping with an unamused frown. “The Old Gods may not follow time as we do, but they do have their rules.” She meets Jubilee’s eyes, leveling her with a look more serious than before. “This is nothing more than good timing,” she tells Jubilee, and the underlying message is there.  _You’re lucky_. “Do you know what’s happening next week?”

Jubilee’s eyes narrow as she tries to recall anything, but her sense of time has been skewed over the recent weeks. The dates have begun to blur together, weeks bleeding into each other until she’s lost track of everything but the phases of the moon.

“No,” she finally tells her mother, shaking her head slowly.

“This year,” Gladys says, reaching for the bottle of whiskey left out on the counter, “the Worm Moon is on the first day of spring.” She pours herself another glass, setting the bottle down a little too hard. “That makes it special,” she tells Jubilee, lifting her now filled glass. “Have you ever heard the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone?”

“King and queen of the Underworld.” Jubilee shrugs, looking at her own untouched glass. “She ate pomegranate seeds and was unable to leave.”

Gladys shakes her head. “Only in winter,” she corrects. “In spring she returns above ground, setting the course for the shifting of seasons.” Jubilee nods along with the words, remembering the story. The Greek myths are less popular in their circles, but well known none the less. “We have a similar myth.”

“I remember.” It’s one of the lesser myths, particular to those of the Old Religion and not well known by any means, but Jubilee always loved it. Gladys would tell it to her at night when she was unable to fall asleep. It was a somber story, a goddess of spring wed to the Lord of Death, the end of all things, a forbidden romance.

She can’t remember how it ends.  

“On the first day of spring a doorway is left open between us and death,” Gladys reminds her, staring out through the window at the rising moon. “Briefly, of course.”

Jubilee purses her lips, following her mother’s gaze. “So if this doorway exists why make a deal with an Old God?” she asks, eyes narrowing just a tick. Gladys turns back to her and Jubilee rips her eyes away from the moon. “Why risk that?”

The Old Gods are unpredictable. Most are kind, but there are tricksters, and making deals—making  _contracts_ —is something most of them won’t do unless there’s no other options. There’s too much to lose.

Gladys’ dark eyes bore into her own, a heaviness there that Jubilee has never seen before. A chill crawls down her spine as her mother stares straight through her. “To make sure it doesn’t close behind you.”

Her breath catches and her fingers dig into her palm.

The pair of them sit in silence for a long moment, Gladys drinking her whiskey and Jubilee  staring at the condensation on the side of her glass. “They left a circle of thorns on my bed last night,” she tells her mother eventually. Gladys’ eyes flick up to meet hers, hand stilling mid-air. Jubilee levels her with a heavy stare. “Does that mean anything to you?” Gladys purses her lips but says nothing. “The Worm Moon. Rebirth. That means Fox Forest is waking up isn’t it?”

Gladys is quiet for a long time. “Let’s hope not,” she says before downing her drink.

* * *

 

The week passes painfully slow to Jubilee. Each day stretches out long and she feels shaky by the end of each night. The Jones’ don’t talk about the coming full moon, but Jubilee can feel the weight of it pressing down on her, a heavy presence resting on her chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s almost suffocating. Jughead is a little too nice and FP is a little too quiet. Jubilee hates what she’s doing to them, but it’s Sweet Pea. It’s Sweet Pea and she would do anything if it meant keeping him safe. Bringing him home.

Her nerves are on edge, but there’s hope there as well, and that’s more than she’s had in weeks.

More than that there’s something off putting in the air. Like with the Blood Moon she can feel it, a dull, electric thrumming that crawls beneath her skin. It’s muted, and no one else appears to notice, but Riverdale feels restless all the same. Jubilee isn’t sure what to make of it. A warning, an unrestrained energy coming from deep within the forest. It leaves her uneasy.

Her mother said that a doorway would open, and perhaps that’s what she’s feeling, the entire earth shifting beneath them, something in the forest changing.

Perhaps Fox Forest knows. The Gods know what happens in their woods, and Jubilee has bled and prayed and  _wept_  there, and those things aren’t so easily forgotten. And if they have forgotten Jubilee will make them remember. She’s afraid of nothing anymore. There’s nothing that Fox Forest or the Old Gods could take from her when she’s already lost her heart.

She has nothing left to give.

The morning of the Worm Moon Jubilee wakes to flowers blooming in the cracks of her floorboard and knots tied in her hair. While she would normally tug out the knots, today she leaves them be, keeps them for a little luck. Again, there are thorns on Sweet Pea’s pillow, a single curved stem this time, like that of a rose.

Jubilee doesn’t touch it.

The flowers crawling through the floorboards are tiny and white and look like those that grow on blackthorn trees. The sight of the delicate little petals makes her hands shake. Anger curls inside of her, but she swallows it back, forces it down. She’s had enough of strife and misfortune.

The thorns and flowers may be bad omens, but she won’t let them stop her.

 

 

 

The sky grows dark and that static in the air grows increasingly stronger until it makes her skin itch.

Jubilee closes her eyes, curling her legs beneath her on the bed. She’s wearing the same deep burgundy dress as the last time she went into the woods, her dark hair left to spill around her bare shoulders. She has Sweet Pea’s heart in her hands, held close to her chest, and the color of it bleeds into her dress. The thin, gold lines curling around the bauble are too bright.

She doesn’t react as her bedroom door creaks open slowly. Her mother slips into the room, quiet as ever. Her eyes flit around the low lit room, lips twisting into a frown when she sees the flowers sprouting from the floor. Gladys is careful to avoid them

Gladys watches silently as Jubilee traces one of the swirling gold vines decorating Sweet Pea’s heart. The bauble pulses dimly, warm and so much more alive than it was before. “He died,” Gladys reminds her suddenly. Jubilee’s hands fall still. “Pulling his soul back… there’ll be a darkness around his heart. Like a scar.” She shifts on the bed, facing Jubilee directly, lips pressed into a firm line. “Death will leave its mark. Not all of him will come back.” Gladys takes Jubilee’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “He won’t be the same.”

“I don’t care.” Jubilee smiles at her mother, a sad, broken thing.

Neither of them will be the same, but that won’t make her love him less. They’ve been through too much together for anything to drag them apart, even if it is something like death. It won’t change the way she looks at him and it won’t change the parts of her that have loved him for longer than she can remember. He’s always been ingrained in her, in her veins and imprinted on her skin.

When death took him, it took a part of her too.

Neither say anything else as Gladys looks at her, contemplative as Jubilee continues to trace the smooth surface of the bauble, cradling it close to her chest. Her eyes move over Jubilee slowly, lingering on the delicate lines inked onto her collarbone that weren’t there last they saw each other, and then down to her stomach. It’s with her gaze resting there that Gladys presses her lips into a thin line, the steely look typically residing in her eyes dimming to something much softer.

They haven’t mentioned her pregnancy in all of this, though Jubilee knows they should. It’s dangerous enough with just her. There are things that could go wrong.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Gladys asks her, reaching out and taking one of her hands. She laces their fingers together, squeezing tight as her eyes flit back to Jubilee. “Because, Baby, once you do this you can’t come back.” There’s something almost nervous in Gladys’ eyes, a little strained as she clings to her daughter.

Jubilee takes her lip between her teeth, worrying it as she considers what her mother is saying. Her voice cracks when she finally says “I can’t breathe without him.” The admission only makes her chest ache harder, a force curling around her ribs and squeezing until she chokes. “It’s like there’s a weight on my chest,” she murmurs, still stroking the bauble with her fingers. “An emptiness.”

Gladys sighs and squeezes her hand again. “That’s the cost of giving your heart away… of losing it.” Her hand slips away from Jubilee’s and Gladys wraps an arm around her shoulders. “He took it with him.” Jubilee’s shoulders tremble and a sob sticks in her throat. Gladys hushes her, stroking her hair away from her face. “I never wanted this for you,” she whispers in her ear as she draws Jubilee close to her chest.

Jubilee curls up against Gladys’ chest as her mother strokes her hair, kissing the side of her head. “I didn’t think it would hurt like this,” Jubilee chokes out. She squeezes her eyes shut, trembling. The bauble thrums in her hands, so much like a heartbeat. It’s steady, a rhythmic beat that she knows all too well after so many years.

“I know, Baby,” Gladys breathes back.

* * *

 

The pathway to the Godswood is always changing. There’s no clear path leading to the heart of Fox Forest. It’s too dangerous for that with so many people living in Riverdale. Too many with ill intentions. Ever since Clifford Blossom summoned The Beast with his own son’s blood the tree has been cloaked, hidden away from those who would seek it out. People become lost this deep into the woods. They stray from the path, walk in circles for hours until they walk back out of the forest miles from where they went in, though they couldn’t possibly have gone that far. The Godswood is only found when it wants to be.

And it lets Jubilee find it.

The grass is longer than it was in January, thick and soft and it tickles at her skin as she steps into the clearing. The tree’s roots stretch out wider and the great white trunk is bigger, with branches seeming to sway in a breeze that isn’t there. The leaves rustle in the darkness and the tree hums lowly. Scattered whispers fill the forest. An old tongue long forgotten.

Her stomach twists as she leaves the safety of the edge of the forest, one hand fisted in the fabric of her dress. The clearing is bathed in pale light, the Worm Moon nearly at its peak above the Godswood. A great shadow is cast, stretching wide across the ground, inky wisps reaching towards her.

Jubilee stops at the edge of it, hesitating before she steps into the shadow. She casts one last fleeting look at the moon before she’s engulfed in darkness. The shadows flicker around her, twisting on the ground like they’re alive as she approaches the Godswood, her eyes kept low to the ground in respect. The whispers as she nears the tree and the air grows colder. A shiver wracks her form, but Jubilee clenches her jaw, refusing to let her nerves consume her.

Small, white flowers bloom in the places where she steps.

Clouds cover the moon and the clearing is plunged into a blackness so deep that the darkness hummed with it. The whispers from the Folk cut off abruptly and Jubilee stills, a dozen feet between her and the Godswood. The looming tree looks larger than before, threatening, and the shadows cast by the branches flicker.

An icy hand grips her empty chest and squeezes. The breath is torn from her and everything goes still and quiet. The electricity that’s lingered in the air all week dissipates, replaced with something hollow that makes her ache inside. It’s something she’s only felt once before, sitting there in the snow after the Ghoulies left her, Sweet Pea’s body lying mangled on the ground. For a moment everything was raw and bleeding, her heart ripped from her chest; but then it stopped hurting. A numbness washed everything away.

Jubilee wonders if this is what death feels like. A nothingness from which all else springs. Perhaps she doesn’t want to know.

The clouds drift and the area is one again bathed in pale light.

Slowly, Jubilee reaches behind herself, hand sliding along the belt looped loosely around her waist. Her fingers find the hilt of the small knife her mother gave her for this night. A delicate thing. Thin, with a light etching of vines and roses lining the dull top of the blade. The blade itself is attached to the hilt with filigree of the same swirling vines.

It’s impractical. Pretty, but breakable.

Jubilee holds the knife out in front of her, holding her other palm aloft, faced up towards the moon. The scar from the Blood Moon is stark against her skin. A shaky breath slips from her as she places the delicate edge of the blade against the palm of her hand between her thumb and first finger, lining up the blade perfectly with the healing scar there.

The forest is quiet.

This time, Jubilee says nothing as she drags the blade across her skin. Blood bubbles up from the cut and her fingers curl inward, liquid dripping to the ground from her tight fist. The blood disappears against the roots of the Godswood, soaking into the earth, and Jubilee shivers as it runs in trails down her palm.

It’s an offering to the Old Gods as much as a reminder. Jubilee has bled for them before and she’ll continue to bleed for as long as it takes. And she waits. The moon overhead reaches its highest point and the knife in her hand flashes silver. 

The Worm Moon is clouded over once more and the grove is overwrought with shadows. The darkness encases her and Jubilee sighs, lowering the knife back to her side.

There’s a skittering sound off to her right and she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. Jubilee tenses, holding her breath as a branch snaps somewhere in the darkness. She doesn’t dare move, even as a low breeze stirs, ruffling the tips of her hair gently. Goosebumps erupt across her arms as a warm breath ghosts across the back of her neck, a presence at her back. Her eyes squeeze shut at the feeling but it’s gone just as quickly.

Something snaps directly behind her and Jubilee whips around, the Godswood towering over her at her back as she glares into the surrounding trees, seeing nothing though she feels something there, watching.

“I know you’re there,” Jubilee calls out into the darkness, voice loud above the silence. The rustling and murmuring stop abruptly and Jubilee almost wishes they hadn’t as the darkness presses in around her on all sides, suffocating her. For the briefest of moments it’s all too much. Too heavy. Too quiet. Too empty. And that hollow feeling in her chest grows and grows until it almost consumes her, but she swallows it back. “Come out where I can see you.” It’s a challenge, a dangerous one at that, but Jubilee’s patience has worn thing.

She’s had enough.

“It’s been quite a while,” a voice says behind her, “since someone came seeking me.” It’s a low tone, smooth and warm, like honey, but she knows better than to be deceived by something so gentle. She knows what kinds of Gods lurk in the deep woods, the tricksters, the benevolent, the one they call The Beast.

Jubilee doesn’t know which one is speaking with her now. Most days it’s the benevolent, the playful, the good-natured tricksters, but full moons can bring out those locked away deep in the heart of the forest, banished to the shadows.

She prays she hasn’t made a mistake as she stills, blood dripping down her fingers, the knife still clutched in her other hand, ceremonial and much too delicate. It’s not a fight she’s here for. It’s a bargain. And she isn’t afraid.  _Courage_ , Thomas Topaz whispered to her. Jubilee clenches her jaw, her dark eyes hardening as she turns back to the Godswood.

Eyes lock with hers, white and glowing and empty in the darkness. Those eyes stare down at her, peering straight through her and her breath catches in her throat. It doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, and Jubilee is pinned in place under its stare. A silhouette is all she can make out, the moon still hidden behind the clouds. The figure is tall, dwarfing her in size, slim and vaguely human in shape.

Behind it the branches of the Godswood move, bending to something that isn’t there.

Panic wells up inside her at the sight. The crushing, aching feeling in her chest grows and she trembles without meaning to under the weight of the Old God’s gaze. It

“Hello, little dark one,” the shadow greets her. It’s head cocks to the side and Jubilee realizes it isn’t branches moving: it’s antlers. It stays hidden in the shadow of the tree, a wraith, nothing but those glowing eyes showing through the dark.

Her mouth goes dry as it looks through her and Jubilee’s skin begins to crawl the longer it holds her gaze. The shadow doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to breathe. Instead it waits, watching Jubilee for a long moment. She steels her nerves, willing herself to speak but the presence of the Old God steals her voice away.

Her hand clenches tighter around her knife and she thinks if she could see the shadows face it would be smiling.

“You look very much like your mother,” it continues when she doesn’t speak, still not moving. Jubilee’s chest goes cold at the observation, her lips twisting into a deep frown.

Even now, Jubilee knows little of her mother’s dealings in the forest. She has her suspicions, but she would never dare to ask. Their kind do what they need in order to survive and worship, even if those things may be reprehensible. Still, it makes her nervous how the spirit seems to recognize her, even if not by name.

Jubilee swallows down her nerves, straightening to her full height, trying not to feel so small beneath the shadow’s gaze even as her hands shake just the slightest. “I’d like to make a deal with you,” she says, firm as she stares into the creature’s pale eyes illuminated in the darkness. She feels foolish as she says it. There are few reasons for people to venture so far into Fox Forest at night.

“I know, little one,” it calls her again. There’s almost something smug about it, placating in the strangest of ways.

It moves then, stepping away from the tree but never leaving its shadow. It straightens, revealing itself to be taller than she thought, and she shivers as the cold night air curls around her, his shoulders left uncovered from the wind that picks up around them.

“The doors of death are open tonight.” The forest begins to whisper again around her, little wisps of words reaching her ears and a sound like laughter. Jubilee clenches her jaw, glaring at the shadow as it continues to stare at her. The murmuring grows louder and louder, more urgent, a warning, and Jubilee can almost make out—

The shadow cocks it’s head to one side, the antlers sprouting from its head suddenly looking bigger, more pointed at the tips, moss and leaves clinging to the bone. “You seek safe passage.”

Jubilee hesitates before responding with, “I do.”

The Old God nods slowly, a gentle hum coming from it. “You know the rules,” it tells her. “Something cannot come from nothing.”

And the trees around them hiss  _blood for blood_. The sound rattles around the forest, passed between the trees until the words swell into a great cacophony of sound only to cut off abruptly.

“How much are you willing to pay?”

Jubilee purses her lips. “As much as it takes.”

She thinks the God smiles at her again. “Brave girl,” it murmurs, low and praising, almost fond in the strangest of ways.

“Tell me what I have to do,” she demands of the spirit, swallowing down contempt.

It observes her for another long moment, and though it has no pupils Jubilee can feel its gaze drag along her form, looking her up and down. Her stomach twists sickly the longer it stares and Jubilee places a protective hand over her belly, shielding it from the creatures gaze. She knows what it may ask of her. She knows the stories, how the wood folk and the Old Gods would steal children from their beds, replace them with something inhuman and wrong. Not for the first time, Jubilee considers what she may be risking with this deal, what it could ask for, but it’s too late for that now.

“Your shoes.” Jubilee falters, hand dropping back to her side at the response. She frowns, looking up at the creature questioningly, searching for a glint of humor in those hollow eyes, but finds nothing but a vast emptiness peering back into her.

“My shoes?” she repeats slowly, still watching the looming beast standing before the Godswood. It’s an odd request, but that isn’t all too uncommon for the folk. They like to play tricks, jokes, cast curses that make people talk in rhyme or forget what they’ve misplaced. They’re fascinated with the little things. “That’s it?”

It shifts its head to the other side. “For now.”

She tenses at the implication, but she has no other options. Slowly, she reaches downward, one fisting in her dress and she lifts the hem. Jubilee slips off one shoe and then the next, gaze never once shifting from the shadow beneath the tree. It doesn’t move to take them and Jubilee takes a breath before forcing herself to move closer. She slips under the shadow of the tree but the Old God still doesn’t react. Jubilee tosses her shoes into the waiting darkness and they never touch the ground.

It reaches out a hand towards her and the clouds above begin to shift, moonlight peaking through, just enough to scatter through the twisting branches of the Godswood. Dark, clawed fingers stretch out towards her, long and thin, and the pale skin of the creature moves as if something is trying to claw its way out.

Jubilee fights to keep her fingers from trembling as the Old God takes her bleeding palm in its hand, the contract sealed in blood. The contact lingers for a moment too long, but she doesn’t dare to pull away first.

The spirit releases Jubilees hand, and the blood dripping from her skin clots, the scar beginning to form once more. Her now bare feet flex against the ground, the grass cold beneath her, a thin frost covering the earth.

The Old God sends her one last linger look before stepping aside and revealing a hole in the center of the Godswood, a hollowed out space where the heart of it should be. She doesn’t dare to look at the god as it steps into the moonlight, allowing her entrance through the doorway.

Hesitating, Jubilee stares into the darkness, no end to it in sight. The trees begin to whisper around her once more, softer, encouraging, and without meaning to Jubilee comes closer. The darkness calls to her, beckoning, and she lets it pull her in deeper until her bloodied palm presses against the rough bark of the tree. She stops just before entering, shivering as a breeze wraps around her, wind coming from inside the hollow trunk.

“Stay on the path, little one,” it warns her, surprisingly gentle.

Jubilee slips the ceremonial knife back through her belt, lifting the hem of her dress as she steps up, placing one foot on the lip of the hollow, ready to descend. “How long do I have?” she asks the Old God as it watches her in the corner of her eye.

It turns away from her, staring up at the full moon, soft light now flooding the clearing. Its antlers quiver, moss and dirt flaking from the ancient bones. “Until the sun rises,” it answers after a moment, not turning back to face her again. “Better hurry.”

Nodding, Jubilee stares into the darkness, a slow, shaky breath slipping from her. “Thank you.”

Those hollow eyes shift back to her. She can feel it. “Little one,” it whispers as she slips into the shadows, “don’t look back.”

* * *

 

The ground beneath her is cold and damp but solid as Jubilee lets the darkness swallow her, the moonlight from the glade dimming the further she wanders down the stone path. It’s a tight space, a tunnel winding down lower and lower until she isn’t sure there’s any end at all. Jubilee has never been claustrophobic, but it’s hard to breathe in the narrow passage between the rocks and it makes her dizzy.

Distantly, she considers this may be a trick, but she’s always known the Gods to be true to their words. A deal in blood is something that can never be broken. The Gods may not be fair or just, they may not have morals, but there are rules, ancient and carved in bone. The old laws are firm and even the Gods wouldn’t dare to defy them.

Besides, Jubilee knew what she was getting into. She knew the risks and she was willing to take the change regardless of the consequences. Perhaps that makes her foolish, or reckless, or desperate, but she doesn’t care.

Stepping into the darkness feels like coming home.

Jubilee loses all time wandering down the dark path. It’s slow going, the tunnel leading to the underground full of sharp turns. Her fingertips trail along the wall beside her and small rocks dig into the flesh of her bare feet, but the sting of it doesn’t stop her as she continues.

Undergrowth forms behind her as she moves. Wildflowers bloom in the cracks of the pathway and ivy crawls along the walls, trailing after her. The hem of her dress catches on thorns, tearing at the fabric, but Jubilee pays it no mind, trying to peer through the darkness even after the light goes out.

Whispers rise from the depths of the underground, ancient spirits rising from the old bones resting in the earth. They speak in a language she doesn’t understand, soft as they string words together, until it becomes a soothing hush around her. The voices almost sing, a low, melancholy sound as she walks into death. It’s a warning perhaps, or an old song long forgotten. Perhaps the souls of the lost are cry out for help she could never offer them.

_Acushla_ , they whisper after her. Darling. Pulse.

She stumbles through the darkness for minutes, hours, the time bleeding together without the Worm Moon to guide her. She’s lost to time and panic strikes her in the center of her chest. Jubilee could already be too late. She doesn’t know how long the winding path between her world and the underground is, or how long it might take to get back. It could be a fool’s errand she’s on, but Jubilee wouldn’t know until it’s far too late.

She has until the dawn, until the sky bleeds with color with the first rays of light. Seven hours roughly, from when she entered the woods just shy of midnight. She can make it. She has to, there are no other options, none that she’s ready to accept.

The voices follow her down the winding path, nipping at her heels, and the thorns continue to tear at her skin and dress, cutting into her legs, but she pushes through, ignoring the pain and the panic, letting the pull of the bond guide her as the path begins to branch, letting it take her home to her heart, to him.

So she wanders through the darkness, trusting her soul to find him even now. She could recognize him anywhere.

She comes across a door. Large and dark, golden filigree tracing along the outer edges. There’s something behind it, and the blood-bond urges her to move forward, but she hesitates. A dark energy thrums on the other side, and Jubilee knows what she’s reached.

The Doors of Death.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Jubilee shoves the doors open wide. They creak and moan as she forces the to open, but allow her the entry she demands.

The room she enters is unlike anything she’s ever seen, but not unexpected. It’s dark, lit by dim flames along the walls of an open cavern. It’s cold and damp and the air smells of the deep ground, musky and thick. The trail of wildflowers following her ends where she’s pushed open the doors, the blackthorn turning to thorn when she steps over the threshold.

The air is still this far down, and there’s a pressure on her chest, a ringing in her ears. She feels numb again this far into the earth, through the doors of death, empty inside.

That emptiness vanishes when she sees him.

He’s standing with his back is to her, but she knows it’s him. Jubilee would recognize him anywhere, in any life and any death, through it all.

The breath is knocked from her lungs when she sees him there, tall and shoulders broad, dressed the same as he was that night in the park. His flannel is ripped and worn and he’s covered in dirt, but he’s as perfect as she remembers. And more than that he’s real and there and it’s like pieces of herself are coming home when she looks at him.

Jubilee steps further into the room, the doors staying open wide behind her. She walks down the steps leading down from the door slowly, unable to shift her eyes away from him as he stares off into the darkness. Her dress slips out from where it’s been caught in her fist, hem dragging across the floor as she descends the steps, drinking in the sight of him.

When she reaches the bottom there’s only a dozen steps between them, but he still feels too far away, within reach but not nearly close enough. Jubilee stills there, staring at his shoulders. He’s taller than she remembers, broader, and it must be a trick of her mind.

“Sweet Pea,” she calls out gently, softer than she means to, hesitating only a few feet away from him. She prays this isn’t a cruel trick, that she hasn’t made a deal for nothing.

He glances over his shoulder at the sound of her voice, confusion flashing in his eyes when he sees her standing there. For a moment he doesn’t move, only looks at her, drinking in the sight of her. “Jubilee?” he murmurs, turning around to face her slowly. Disbelief flickers in his dark eyes.

“It’s you,” she breathes. “It’s really you.” She takes another step towards him, but freezes suddenly. Sweet Pea flickers at the edges, as the flames along the walls move, a shadow in his own right. He’s faint, not all there. It’s only his soul she’s seeing now, a ghost. “Oh, Sweet Pea,” she says softly, chest aching for him.

He takes a step towards her, eyes raking over her frame rapidly, checking to see if she’s okay. “Jubilee,” he says again, tasting her name on his tongue. “Baby, what are you—” He cuts off abruptly and something like horror flashes in the depths of his eyes. “No,” he shakes his head, “no, no, no—you can’t—”

“I’m okay,” she tells him gently, reassuring as she takes another step. He looks at her like he doesn’t quite believe it. “I’m okay.” She reaches for him when they’re close enough but her fingers only graze his before slipping away, as if he isn’t there at all. He’s cold and shadows bloom under his eyes, making him look tired, thin in the face. Her fingers itch to reach out and touch him, to pull him down to her and keep him close, but she can’t and that kills her a little inside.

Sweet Pea is the one to reach out. His long fingers just barely ghost against her cheek. Jubilee can almost feel him there, the memory of his touch blooming on her skin. He stares at his hand, at the space left between them. It’s too much. He can’t touch her. “I’m dreaming,” he decides, shaking his head as his hand drops back to his side. Sweet Pea’s shoulders slump, defeat shadowing his eyes.

His expression makes her heart break. Jubilee tries again to take his hand, but he slips through her fingers, more shadow than man. “You’re not,” she promises, shaking her head when he takes a half-step away from her.

Around them the flames flicker, shadows dancing along the walls. They reflect in his eyes, making them glossy. He towers over her, searching her own eyes, cagey and nervous before they slide back down her frame. It’s like a physical touch and she shivers beneath his gaze, wanting nothing more than to hold him to her, but she can’t. He seems resigned to this as well, fingers flexing at his sides, an impatient habit he’s had for as long as she’s known him. Jubilee has always found it endearing.

“How are you here?” Sweet Pea murmurs, returning to her, stepping in close until he’s nearly pressed flush against her with and she has to crane her head back to look him in the eyes. The tips of his fingers drag along her spine through her dress as he reaches around her. Goosebumps erupt across her skin at the gentle touch and she closes her eyes as his hand moves higher. Sweet Pea’s fingers curl through her hair and it’s as close as they can possibly be given the circumstances.

A slow sigh pulls from her lips as his fingers work through the tangles in her hair, his hand cupping the back of her neck. “It doesn’t matter,” she tells him, forcing her eyes open to meet his once more. Her palms slide up his sides and she fists his flannel in her hands.

And it doesn’t matter, not to her. How she’s here isn’t important. All that matters is that she’s found him. Even now, just looking at him, she can feel the missing pieces of herself coming back together. The hole in her chest doesn’t close, not completely, but it’s enough. Somehow it’s enough.

“Baby, what did you do?” Sweet Pea asks her, shaking his head, brows furrowing. His hand loosens in her hair and he starts to pull back, but she tightens her grip on his shirt, bowing her head and refusing to meet his eyes.

“I made a deal,” is all she tells him, avoiding his questioning stare. Sweet Pea goes rigid against her as he sucks in an angry breath, hissing between his teeth. His hand drops from the back of her head and he steps away from her, glaring down at her. Her eyes rise to meet his and she returns his look, pursing her lips as his jaw flexes in irritation.

He shakes his head. “No.”

Jubilee sighs, wrapping her arms around herself as he steps away from her. She should have known better than to think he would make this easy. He’s never been anything but stubborn. Already she knows what he’s thinking. He’s always been a martyr. He’s always tried to protect her, even at the cost of his own life. And now he thinks he needs to do so again. This time she’s not going to let him.

“Sweet Pea,” she coos, trying to placate him, reaching for him again, but he takes another step back.

“Jubilee, why would you—”

“I had to,” she snaps, cutting him off. All of that anger that’s been building in her chest over the last month spills over. She lost him. She almost lost herself. And Jubilee can’t do that, not again. “And don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t do the same damn thing.” Her eyes squeeze shut and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. “It was the only way to make sure…” Jubilee shakes her head, looking up at him again. “You can come home,” she tells him, barely above a whisper. “Come home,” she begs, eyes glossy.

Sweet Pea looks down at her, apologetic, and she knows what he’s going to say even before the words leave him, and her chest squeezes painfully “No, Jubilee.”

“Sweets—”

“I won’t let you be bound to their rules,” Sweet Pea tells her firmly. There’s resignation there, defeat. He’s already given up, exhaustion in his eyes. The fight has gone out of him after so long underground.

Jubilee swallows down the growing lump in her throat, her stomach flipping, unsettled by her nerves. She curls tighter around herself. “Don’t do this,” Jubilee pleads again, releasing a quivering breath.

Sweet Pea stares at her for a moment longer, fingers curling at his sides, as if he wants to touch her but knows he can’t. Not really, anyway. “You’re going to have to let me go,” he says, so much softer than she’s ever heard him before. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, his dark eyes locking with hers. “You have to let me go, Sweetheart.”

She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut tightly. Her throat goes tight, eyes itching and rimmed red. “I can’t,” she tells him. Fingers ghost against her cheek, close and cold and coaxing her to look at him again, and Sweet Pea smiles down at her, a broken little thing that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You can.” His thumb brushes against her lips before his hand drops back to his side. She shakes her head again, and Sweet Pea breathes out her name, a trembling gasp as he leans down, forehead pressing against hers.

“I can’t,” she repeats, louder this time, voice cracking as a sob wells in her throat. Her hands come up to cup his face, pulling him down closer as she pushes up on her toes, wanting to stay there forever. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

His breath fans over her face and his knuckles slide across her cheek, brushing her hair away from her eyes gently. “Jubilee,” he sighs. His shoulders slump but he still doesn’t cave.

Jubilee’s stomach lurches sickly once more. “Come home?” she asks him. His thumb brushes against her lips again. “I need you.” She searches for his free hand, hooks her fingers through his and guides his hand to her stomach. Jubilee presses the flat of his palm against her still flat stomach. “ _We_  need you,” she corrects herself and he goes still against her.

Sweet Pea sucks in a sharp breath and pulls his forehead away from hers slowly, putting just enough space between them to look at her. His eyes search hers questioningly. “You—” He cuts himself off before he can say it out loud, glancing between her face and his hand on her stomach. “Jubilee?”

For a second guilt wells inside her. It isn’t a lie, but it feels like she’s manipulating him, tricking him, but she doesn’t know else to get him to follow her. How else to get him to stay with her.

“I won’t leave without you,” she tells him, placing her hand over his and watching the emotions that flicker in his eyes, shock and awe and so much affection it makes her chest hurt. His fingers spread wide, covering as much of her stomach as he can. Jubilee slots her fingers through his, so close to touching him. “I’m not losing you.” Her thumb brushes the back of his hand. “Not again.”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring down at her hand covering his. “You won’t.” His free hand cradles her cheek, thumb sweeping across her skin, and she sighs at the gentle touch, the feel of his calloused palm against her, rough and familiar, something she’s dearly missed since she lost him. Jubilee leans into him, eyes fluttering shut as he leans down to press his lips against her temple, lingering.

Eventually they pull away. Jubilee keeps her fingers locked through his and he grips her back twice as fierce as leads him to the doors, walking backwards and pulling him along with her. He follows willingly, letting her guide him, trusting her as he always has.

Jubilee forces herself to turn away from him, staring up at the open doors before her, the pathway that will lead them both home.

He slips through her fingers again, and a voice in the back of her mind warns her not to look back at him, not to turn around no matter how much it hurts not to. Because she’s only just found him and she couldn’t handle losing him again, not so quickly. Not after everything they’ve gone through. They deserve to rest now.

A hand settles low on the center of her back, Sweet Pea holding her steady as she hovers just outside of the doors leading back to their world. His hand slides around her, the tips of his fingers just grazing the side of her stomach.

“I’m right here, Baby,” he whispers against her ear, breath fanning across her skin. “I’m right here.” His touch disappears as she steps through the doors, and panic rises in her throat, but she swallows it back, trusting him to be there.

The cold air of the tunnel surrounds her once again, and the trail of flowers blooming in the cracks between the rocks greet her. And she runs. She isn’t afraid anymore, not of falling and not of taking the wrong path. There’s magic in these tunnels, deep magic, the kind only found in the forgotten corners of the world, the kind that has to be locked away. And it’s because of that deep magic that Jubilee doesn’t stumble in the darkness. She doesn’t fall or slip and the thorns on the ground stop reaching for her, retreating into the darkness from where it came.

Jubilee doesn’t know how long she runs, her lungs burning, legs aching, but eventually they reach the hollow in the Godswood, left open like it was promised to be. The Old God kept it’s word to her; and Jubilee is going to keep her’s as well.

She owes them that much.

Even now, she can’t quiet believe it. She can see moonlight and the pressure from the deep ground recedes until she can breathe again. Jubilee feels more alive than she ever has before. It doesn’t change what happened that night in February. It won’t stop that shadow from settling over their hearts, but at least they’ll be together again.

They’re going home.

Just as quickly her joy dissipates and her steps slow, the end of the path only a few steps away.

She can’t hear him behind her.

Sweet Pea has never been a silent person, tall and strong and heavy on his feet, even when he would try not to be. But she can’t hear him, can’t  _feel_  him there behind her, and it makes her blood run cold. They’ve come to far for him not to be there, and Jubilee can’t help in when raw fear rips through her. Her hands tremble as she comes to a halt, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

She wants to look, to check, but the Old God’s warning stays her. She knows better than to ignore it, not when it could mean losing him forever. If it takes him again she won’t come back.

Jubilee takes a deep breath, forcing down the panic that he might not be there. She murmurs a prayer in the old tongue as she braces her hands against the edge of the hollow of the tree, the doorway opened wide for them to slip through. She still can’t feel him behind her, can’t hear him, but she pushes down her doubts, having faith that the Old Gods will keep their bargain.

Slowly, she slips back through the hollow, sighing as she feels the cold, damp grass beneath her. Jubilee steps out into the moonlight, the Worm Moon still shining overhead, dawn far off. They’ve made it. A breathless laugh tumbles from Jubilee’s mouth, a genuine smile spreading across her face. Jubilee twists on her heel, already reaching out for Sweet Pea.

The shade following behind her disappears and everything goes black.

* * *

 

She wakes at the base of the Godswood, gasping for breath with an ache in her chest.

Jubilee is on her stomach, lying prone across the forest floor with her long skirt tangled around her legs, her feet bare and damp. Dirt clings to her dress and to her skin, as if she’s crawled straight from the earth. Leaves and needles from the pines stick to her, biting into her skin from the forest floor.

Above her, the sky is still dark, the sun only just beginning to breach the horizon. The sunrise flickers through the trees, casting shadows across the ground.

Jubilee pushes herself up onto her hands, her stomach rolling at the sudden movement. She sucks in a sharp breath, pressing her palm against her side as a sharp stab of pain rips through her side. It leaves her breathless and gasping for a moment, her entire body aching suddenly.

Folding her legs beneath her as she sits up, Jubilee brushes her long, tangled hair away from her face, staring up at the tree. The hollow is gone, the doorway sealed, just like it should be. Her eyes sweep across the clearing, but nothing has changed, everything as she can remember.

She’s alone.

Sweet Pea isn’t here. He isn’t  _here_.

Her hands shake, fingers digging into the soft earth and she looks around wildly, but there’s no one there. No one but her. A sob bubbles up in her throat, tearing from somewhere deep in her chest before she can stop it. Her entire body trembles with the force of it.

She’s failed. She’s lost him again, if she ever had him at all.

Her heart breaks for the second time in as many months. Jubilee can feel it rip from her chest and shatter just as it did before. It leaves her empty inside, drained,and Jubilee can do nothing but curl into herself and cry. Exhaustion settles into her bones and she leans against the Godswood, wishing it would open once again and swallow her whole.

Movement at the edge of the clearing catches her eye and Jubilee snaps around, going very still when familiar, glowing eyes lock with hers from the shadow of a tree. The Old God stares back at her, blending in with the trees so seamlessly that Jubilee knows she’s only seeing it now because it wants to be seen. She waits for it to move again, or speak, or gloat if this has been a trick all along, but it only watches from the edge of the woods.

_What do you want?_  is what she wants to ask, to scream at it if it’s here to taunt her. Because she’s suffered enough. Because she can’t do it anymore. “Where is he?” Jubilee chokes out instead, her mouth dry and her tongue thick and heavy.

It shouldn’t be able to hear her, not from so far away, but the Gods head tilts to one side as it regards her with an empty expression. “Where all deals are made,” it tells her, voice soft and close, spoken into her ear and making her shiver. It doesn’t linger, turning away as soon as the words reach her.

It disappears into the trees, a shadow.

“Crossroads,” Jubilee breathes back.

 

 

 

He wakes with her heart in his hand, gasping for breath with a burning in his chest.

Sweet Pea breathes for the first time in over a month and the cold March air stings his lungs as they expand. He inhales too deeply too soon and wheezes, sputtering out a hacking cough as dust stirs inside him. Dropping onto his back, boneless and exhausted, Sweet Pea stares up at the sky, watching as the color above bleed red and gold in the early morning light.

For a moment he can’t remember where he is or why he’s here. He’s lying in the dirt, surrounded by tall grass with the last traces of snow melting away and wildflowers crawling out of the earth to take its place. Fox Forest looms off in the distance, the air still and quiet. It’s peaceful so early in the morning, all of Riverdale still asleep, the day only just beginning. A fog is settled over the fields.

And then he remembers. The cold night in the snow. The Ghoulies. Promising Jubilee everything would be okay. He remembers the pain, the deep ache that settled inside him, the snapping of bones. He remembers when it stopped hurting and everything went dark for the last time, waking somewhere unfamiliar and cold, an emptiness inside of him.

Sweet Pea remembers he was dead.

He trembles with the realization, feeling sick as it comes back to him. His time in the underground was brief compared to most, but the chill of it still clings to him tightly, buried inside him so deep he’s afraid it will never come back out. Sweet Pea tries to piece it all together, but his memory of the place is foggy. The days ran together, all sense of time lost to him. It’s the emotions that stay with him. The anger. The fear. The pain. The feeling of his heart being torn from his chest.

On the good days he remembers Jubilee, bright and beautiful with her hands on his skin and her lips on his, only for her to turn to shadow and slip away from him.

His gaze shifts to the side, locking on the small, glass sphere nestled in the palm of his hand, pale and silver and whole once again. Even after all months it’s been his it still seems so fragile against the rough skin of his hands, the glass so thin and breakable. His chest seizes up as he looks at it, his throat tightening. His tattooed thumb traces one of the delicate, swirling green vines creeping along the sides of it.

The bauble warms in his hand, beating for the first time since that night in early February, and his long fingers curl around it to keep it safe, nearly covering it completely.

Sweet Pea wonders if she ever got his.

Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet, struggling as the shift in balance makes his stomach roll. Mud and leaves cling to him as he stands, his clothes ripped and worn, blood staining the old flannel shirt wrapped around his frame. Rocks and twigs dig into the soles of his feet.

He spins in a slow circle, breathing heavily as he takes in the world around him, so, so alive. A breathless laugh tumbles from his mouth and his grip on Jubilee’s heart tightens just a fraction, the familiar weight of it comforting.

He’s in the middle of two roads, old and worn, dirt with grass beginning to grow along the path once again, caught in the place they meet.

 

 

 

Jubilee finds him at the crossroads.

He’s standing with his back to her once more, staring up at the sky as the sun rises over the field. He’s a silhouette from so far away, facing the sunrise and standing in the intersection of two old roads, waiting. The long grass is bathed in light that reflects off the low hanging morning fog, the world beginning to stir around them; everything turns gold.

Her steps slow as she walks down the road behind him, kicking up the dirt. He doesn’t notice her there, too busy looking at the sun for the first time in nearly two months, soaking in the light around him. A slow smile quirks at her lips. She can’t see his face, but she can imagine the joy in his eyes.

Jubilee wraps her arms around her middle, leaving the hem of her skirt to drag against the ground, uncaring of the tears in the fabric or the blood sticking to her skin. The cut across her palm stings, having reopened sometime in the course of the journey downward. It hurts, but she’s alive. They’re both alive.

In this moment nothing else matters.

She stops when there’s only a few feet of space between them, simply watching him for a moment, though there’s nothing she wants more than to hold him, to feel him against her and never let go. “Sweet Pea,” she says gently, calling out to him in a sweet voice.

At the sound of his name, Sweet Pea looks over his shoulder, eyes locking on hers. His expression brightens when he sees her standing there. He turns slowly, eyes never leaving hers as he faces her directly. “Jubilee,” he whispers back, the words lost in the space between them. He looks at her like she’s a dream, like he’s asking if she’s real.

She nods jerkily, a sob sticking in her throat as she laughs. A smile lights up her face as their eyes meet and a warmth blossoms in her chest. He continues to stare like he doesn’t quite believe she’s there, and Jubilee murmurs his name again, taking another step towards him and reaching out with one hand.

Sweet Pea is faster. They collide in a messy rush and Jubilee throws her arms around his neck as his wrap around her waist, yanking her right off the ground. She laughs again, clinging to him as she buries her face against his shoulder, dangling a foot off the ground as he crushes her against him. His grip is tight around her middle, fingers digging into her hips so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t care. He’s there and real and holding her together as she sobs into his shoulder.

He chokes out her name again, whispering it against her hair as he leans into her. Sweet Pea places her back on her feet, bending down to her height. For a moment they both just stare at one another, unable to move or breathe. Jubilee’s arms unwind from around him, her hands cupping his cheeks. Sweet Pea’s eyes slip shut briefly as her soft fingers graze his skin.

She says his name again and he pulls her flush against his chest, lips meetings hers in a desperate, wanting kiss. She sighs against him, feeling like she’s whole again for the first time in months. Her arms wrap around her tight, surrounding her, and his mouth chases hers as he tilts her head back.  Jubilee’s fingers fist in his hair, holding him against her as he deepens the kiss, drinking in the sweet honey and raspberry taste of her.

Sweet Pea holds her steady with one arm banded around her back and her hands move lower, sliding around to cup his cheeks and cradle him close to her.

He doesn’t pull away until their lungs are screaming for air, and even then he doesn’t go far. Sweet Pea presses his forehead against hers, breath shaky against her lips.

“I found you,” Jubilee whispers when she’s caught her breath. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the hand on the back of her head slips around to her cheek, his thumb sweeping across the skin beneath her eye.

Sweet Pea chuckles, low and throaty and her heart skips in her chest. “I’m home,” he tells her, kissing her gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this little project of mine! All the feedback I've gotten has been very important to me and I'm really happy with how responsive everyone has been!
> 
> There will be a sequel fic to this coming, but I can't say when for sure!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been over a month in the making and I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with everyone! Interlude One will be posted next Thursday, and Part Two will be posted next Saturday. There will be five chapters total. Be sure to drop a comment and let me know your thoughts! Scream at me, let me know your favorite line, and feel free to ask questions!


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